Human Titles
by zedonkulouslybashful
Summary: Kallian Tabris and Alistair's breakup make both of them racist. Fortunately for Zevran, this allows him to express some unrequited feelings. Also, Alarith, the Alienage shopkeep, has a complicated relationship with an elven blood mage. And finally, Bevin and Amethyne have a fluffy relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt**: dragonage - kink . live journal 328 . ht ml ? thread = 280392

**Notes**: Please R&R. Not sure what this needs but something seems off. Thanks.

**Update**: Small tweaks. Thanks for the prompt, QueenChicken. :) The next chapter is now up.

* * *

She was stunned. Yes, _this_ was bound to happen; it was naive to think otherwise.

Kallian was fool enough to believe that her princely lover, **actually** loved her. That _she_, an Alienage elf, could **actually** be...his wife. But she saw who he really was now: a racist prig. Only Vaughan was worse in her mind.

She should have known better. All human lords are the same. And now Alistair was giving her a boon. Chancellor, Teyrn, or Bann.

Titles. _Human_ titles.

"I...need more time to consider."

"Fair enough," he replied in his characteristic way. Kallian couldn't help but be charmed by it. And that made her sneer.

She failed at hiding it. Alistair's eyes widened ever so slightly before asking about her future plans. Her voice cracked with hurt despite her efforts, "I- I'm not sure." Tears threatened to fall from her eyes.

More King-speak followed while she seethed and...hurt. She was SO embarrassed. Shut down by him in front of _everyone_. And now she had to _mingle_.

Flying quickly down the dais, Kallian tried to excuse herself from the faceless well-wishers. Yes, the tears were definitely going to come at any second now.

"My dear Warden, would you like an escort?"

Zevran. Thank the Maker for him. Blinking back tears, she replied, "Yes, please. I'm, ahm, a little overwhelmed."

"So I see. Afterwards, shall we find somewhere away from everyone else, hm?" There was no innuendo in his voice to her surprise and she was thankful for it.

"That- That would be great. Please, lead the way."

Zevran kissed her hand and then put her arm in the crook of his. With her friend next to her, she wasn't so weak in the knees now. She could do this.

They circled the room, making brief conversation with the few people there she knew. And with those she didn't know, specifically the nobles who earlier gasped at her proposal to Alistair, Zevran handled with skill. Finally, Kallian and Zevran exited via a side door, their absence unnoticed.

Tears, sobs, shaking. Zevran said nothing, just held her close while they leaned on the wall, stroking her hair and nodding into her temple.

When she could breathe again, he offered that they continue somewhere other than the hallway. Kallian nodded and Zevran again lead the way.

The castle visitors were mostly concentrated in the Landsmeet chamber but some were wandering the halls admiring the extensive art collection. Whenever Zevran saw someone down a hallway, he would steer them in another direction.

After not seeing anyone for a while, she looked up at him. Feeling her gaze, he glanced at her. "Something on your mind, my dear?"

"Oh, just thinking about what an idiot I am."

"You are too hard on yourself. Alistair...has his charm." His expression fell slightly at that before he looked at her with a small but warm smile.

Kallian was about to ask what he meant by "his charm" when they heard someone behind them. They had inadvertently wandered into a dead-end with only one exit; they quickly took it.

"...Wow...this is a nice suite," said Kallian, taking a few steps into the room. She looked back at him with a half-hearted smile. "At least we're trapped in a _nice_ place, right?"

Zevran still had his back to the closed door and looked uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong?"

"It's- it's nothing." Zevran was looking at his boots, the floor, the window, everywhere but at her.

"Are you sure nothing is wrong?" She could _see_ that he was...blushing?

She closed the distance and forced him to look at her. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were bright red. He looked like Alistair used to back when...

"My dear, I...I mean, usually I _plan_ this sort of thing, but please, _please_ let me assure you that I did not intend-"

Kallian kissed him. He blushed even more. ...And that made her **mad**.

"Zevran! Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Squirming. ...Blushing! You...**you** are Zevran fucking Arainai!" She attack his face with angry kisses, pulling at his dress robes while kicking off her shoes.

"Kallian, I don't think-"

"Then don't!" She leaned into him forcefully as she tried to free herself from her dress. When her breasts finally met his chest, he closed his eyes briefly, then leered at her hungrily.

"_There's **Zevran**_," she thought with a smirk. She worked at his pant laces while he broke free of his boots. Then she lunged to kiss and bite his neck but he gently pushed her away, putting a finger to her mouth to shush her.

"Anything worth doing is worth doing well, my dear, especially things such as this."

Gazing his thumb over her bottom lip, he looked deep into her eyes. Then he slowly pressed her body close to his, with one hand behind her lower back and the other in her hair, cradling her head. His kiss was soft, deep, and...stirring.

Memories in camp came back to her; "_No_," she thought, "_this is different. This is...better_."

Pulling back a bit, Kallian looked at him softly. Brushing back the errant hair that had fallen into his face, he shivered as she touched his ear.

Quizzically, she asked, "You too?"

"It's fairly common among our people, my dear."

_Our_ people. Yes.

Then concern washed over her face and she looked away. "_How many people had he been with? **Types** of people?_" she wondered. Kallian felt painfully inadequate; her tally was only one hum- one _shemlin_.

Misreading the cause of her changed expression, Zevran offered that this lovely experience end.

"No, Zevran, it's, it's not you. ...I've only been with...one...other. Ever."

"Alis-"

"Don't speak his name."

"Ah. Well." He stood there, tenderly looking her over, then asked, "What would you have me do, my dear?"

"I, I don't know. ...I don't care! Just be..." she trailed off. She thought but did not say "_different_."

"Very well. Please, lay down on your stomach," he said, moving to the bed and pulling back the covers.

Kallian did as instructed and was rewarded by taut thigh muscles straddling her and strong hands massaging her shoulders, then back, thighs, calves, and finally feet. She nearly drooled into the silk sheets.

"_Silk sheets...where are we?_," she wondered.

Pursuit of that question's answer faded from her mind as Zevran gently kissed the arch of her foot, then her ankle, behind her knee, inner thigh... She squirmed and giggled, "That ti- tickles."

"Should I stop?"

Her eyes shot open and she looked over her shoulder to met his gaze. She shook her head and wordlessly mouthed "no".

Pleased, he smiled and bent to continue his progress. Kissing her lower back, he smoothly reached up her stomach for her breast with one hand and found his way into her heat with the other.

His thumb circled her clit with skill. Her breath hitched as he gazed...something...inside her. Soon she was grinding herself deeper to his touch.

Then he suddenly exited.

She looked around. "Wha-?"

He shushed her, licking her honey off of his fingers. Then, his skin brushing over hers, he kissed up her spine until he reached her ears. He licked and sucked on them, making her blush, then with heady tones, he asked, "May I?"

Only guessing what she was agreeing to, she nodded. With a lick up her ear that made her shudder, he retreated to position himself at her center and slowly entered.

Her breath caught as he grazed that spot again; Zevran was longer than... "_**No**_," she chastised herself. Zevran gave a few more tentative thrusts before leaning forward to breathe appreciation into her ear.

Clutching her breast, his thrusts deepened and his tempo quickened. Her moans were stifled by the pillow. Suddenly, he pulled her up and, as he stroked her clit and slowly pumped, he growled, "I want to hear you, my dear."

Sweat trickled down her collar bone and between her breasts onto his griping fingers. She steadied herself by pushing against the wall with one hand and grabbing behind his thigh with the other. As he returned to his previous pace, her cries got louder and louder.

Her release clenched around him and he quickly followed. Collapsing in a sweaty heap, she craned around to kiss along his tattoo. He stroked her cheek and kissed her brow before leaving to wash up.

Her eyes following him, she noticed that the door was cracked. She rose, shut the door, then took her turn to wash as Zevran returned and gathered their clothes.

When she entered the room, he motioned for her to pause. He took her hand and spun her around. He smiled but then, as though remembering something, he said, "What now?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." She pulled on her dress, lacing up the front, while searching for her knickers.

"I shall ask nothing more of you than you are willing to give."

Deflated, she asked, "So... easy come, easy go?"

Before Zevran could respond, Alistair burst through the door, tears in his eyes. "I could ask you the same thing, Kallian!"

They both spun around to Alistair's pacing. "How- How could you?" he yelled.

Heated, she shouted, "How could I? You _racist_ **bastard**! **YOU** are the one who dumped **ME** in front of all of Ferelden! You **used** me!" Her eyes flashed to Zevran. "**ZEVRAN**! Do **NOT** leave."

"Oh, well, did it ever occur to you that being **King** would have benefits? That while I couldn't marry you, we could have still been together?" He continued to pace, "That is my brother's- the King's- **MY BED**, Kallian! What were you thinking?"

Taken back by this, she shut her mouth, paused, then looked at Zevran. With a calloused expression on his face, he volunteered with a forced breezy tone, "We had our fun. Perhaps it would be easiest if I stepped aside, hm?"

Disillusioned, she gaped at him. But then she saw something in his eyes...a pleading.

As she looked at him, she thought, "_How many times has this happened to him? How many times has this happening to **our** people. Picked seconded at best, disregarded at worst..._"

Jaw set, she turned to Alistair. "I've made up my mind, my _King_. Please make Shianni the Bann of the Alienage."

Alistair shook his head. "What?"

"The boon you offered me earlier." She glanced at Zevran, a puzzled look on his face, and continued, "I think I'm going to travel." Then coldly to Alistair, she said, "Must be in my _Elven_ blood to wander."

Finding her shoes, she stormed out with Zevran following behind.

Alistair paced for a while longer then punched the bed poster. It shattered. Cursing, he stalked off to find Teagan.

"_First order of business: demolish these chambers. Second: find a fucking HUMAN wife._"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

**Notes**: QC's request is going to take a few chapters but we'll get there. This chapter is a bit plotty. No lemon here but it is coming, promise. And for those of you who are put off by breaking the fourth wall, sorry; I couldn't resist. It's not until the end though.

* * *

-1-

Steadying herself with Zevran's shoulder, Kallian stepped back into her shoes. Then, together, they entered the Landsmeet Chamber. "The _last_ thing we want is to give the nobles _another_ reason to think less of me," she said, mostly to herself.

She feigned a smile to a bejeweled woman, who immediately started whispering to and pedantically chuckling with those around her. Zevran nodded, then said, "You know, my dear...if I may call you that...few elves find themselves in such positions of authority." He thought for second and continued, "...It seems wise to 'play the game,' as they say. And, under your banner, perhaps more of our kind would be willing to shake off the ghastly dress of inferiority."

She smiled. One, because he really _did_ care for the elves' lot, despite the disparaging things he could sometimes say about them. Two, for the wise advice. And, three, for working in an allusion to getting naked. She suspected the last wasn't intentional, but it amused her all the same.

"Would you accompany me outside? We have an adoring public to meet, apparently."

"As you wish," he said, trying to conceal how honored he was.

Kallian and Zevran shielded their eyes as they stepped out on the balcony. A crushing wave of applause and cheers greeted them. She grinned broadly and waved. Below, she could see little elf girls losing their minds with excitement. Recognizing Amethyne among them, tears filled her eyes. "I guess I'm the famous elven adventurer she'll pretend to be now," she thought, humbled.

She squeezed Zevran's hand and pointed out the little girls. When he waved at them, they erupted in blushing giggles. He chuckled and glanced side-long at Kallian, which she returned, wryly.

Not far from the flock of girls stood her family: Cyrion, Shianni, and Soris. Her father looked even older than he did in the Tevinter's slave cage, but despite his worn appearance, he still beamed with pride. Shianni, spirited as ever, had picked up one of the elf boys and was pretending to be twirled around by him. And Soris was whistling loudly, clapping, and shouting her name. A human woman next to him was also clapping, albiet not as enthuasically. Kallian tilted her head at the sight of her. "Why is she standing with my family instead of the humans?" she thought then shrugged dismissively.

Alistiar burst through the doors, arms raised to hush the crowd, his gauntlets shining brightly in the sun. Eamon and Teagan followed behind him. The wave of sound receded and he began, "The Blight...is over."

The crowd lost it again and he, again, quieted them. "We owe our lives to many who have fought to protect us. There are too many names. But one person," he quickly looked at and away from Kallian, "stands with...distinction." He made a face Kallian couldn't quite read but she suspected he was choosing his words; he didn't want to say, "honor". "_Oh, so that's how it's going to be_," she thought, clinching her teeth and trying to not roll her eyes.

Alistair glanced at her again. As he did so, she faked a friendly "ha-ha" expression as she said, "Witch-fucker." Eamon cleared his throat. Teagan paled and shifted uncomfortably. Alistair's eyes narrowed but failed to think of a comeback. Zevran warned in her ear, "Play nice, my dear, he _is_ the King." Kallian reluctantly agreed.

Forcing a smile, Alistair continued, "Kallian Tabris of this fine city's Alienage," the elves cheered but a swift, threatening look for Alistair silenced them. "...Kallian...slayed the Archdemon. She is Warden Commander and, at her behest, **I** am your King."

A few people clapped. Judging by his reaction, he expected more than a demure response. "She also asked that Shianni be named as Bann of the Alienage. Shianni, please join us here on the balcony."

The elves exploded with applause. Shianni, shunned, slowly put down the little elf boy, straightened her clothes, and ascended the stairs to the balcony. Once the elves' congratulations had subsided, the murmuring amongst the nobles was plainly audible. "**BANN**? Of the _Alienage_? Have you ever _heard_ of such-"

"As your King, I name Eamon as my adviser. Taking his place at the Landsmeet and as Bann of Redcliffe, is Teagan Guerrin, Bann of Rainesfere." They both stepped forward and the crowd again clapped politely.

"In hon-... In light of these changes, I declare today, Grey Warden's Rest day, as a holiday for all of Ferelden from this day forward. So, please, eat, drink, and be merry!" There was somewhat louder applause at this and some of the crowd set off immediately to begin the festivities. "_I guess not all the wine was set ablaze_," thought Kallian, amused.

Alistair stayed a few moments but, as soon as Shianni spoke Kallian's name, he quickly turned on his heel and departed. Unaccustomed to such a swift benediction, Eamon and Teagan awkwardly followed.

"You made **me** a _Bann_?" Shianni squealed as she squeezed her cousin's middle. "Yep, uh, can't breathe." Ignoring her, Shianni swung her around before releasing her. Kallian rubbed her ribs and said, "Why did Duncan recruit me instead of **you**?" and grinned. Shianni laughed and picked her up as she, again, swung her around easily.

Gaining her composure, she said, "Shianni, this is Zevran. He is, uh... Well, he was one of my companions on the journey."

"That all?" Shianni asked, with disbelieving surprise.

Reddening, Kallian glanced at Zevran for help; he gave none. He had that calloused but pleading look on his face again. "Well, Zevran, this is my cousin. The rest of my family is down the stairs..." she offered. His eyes widened. Kallian knew his unasked question and gestured to the stairway. Zevran assumed this was a good sign. "_No one else has ever..._," he thought as they all bobbed down to the courtyard.

"Papa!" Kallian exclaimed, as she bounded down the stairs. Cyrion braced himself to be mowed down but she stopped short and gave him a hug. "My ribs are still mending," he playfully chided. Stepping back, her father said, "My, my. Soris, alive to carry on the family name. Shianni, Bann of the Alienage. And my daughter...the Hero of Ferelden and Commander of the Grey. Adaia would be beside herself with pride!"

Kallian reached for Zevran's hand. "Papa, this is Zevran." Suddenly, she remembered Nelaros, her betrothed from Highever, and how he and Soris stormed Vaughan's estate to save her and the other women. Kallian looked at Zevran tenderly, knowing that he would have done the same. Zevran was looking for something in her eyes and, apparently finding it, he smiled with the smallest of tears in his eyes. Blinking them away, he extended his other hand to Cyrion.

"So, Zevran, from what Alienage do you hail?," then, seeing the tattoos, he added, "Or are you Dalish?"

"Ha-ha, no, I am no Dalish. I am from Antiva City." Cyrion's expression darkened ever so slightly, an unspoken suspicion forming in his mind.

Instead of voicing this suspicion, Cyrion asked, gesturing to the clasped hands, "And how long has this been going on?"

"It's, uh, it's a pretty new deal," she said, and thought, "_like as in 'today new'_." She and Zevran exchanged glances.

Concern knit Cyrion's brows together as he asked, "And what is it that you do for a living, Zevran?"

Before he could answer, Soris strolled up and said, "There's our Hero!" The human woman was at his side.

"Soris, how are you?"

"Really good. I'm moving to Highever. With my future wife," he said with a pleased smile.

"That's great! What Alienage is she from?"

The human woman looked uncomfortable. The realization crept over Kallian's face. She exploded: "Soris! You're marrying a **HUMAN**! What are you thinking? Humans are nothing but rapists," then, more to herself, she said, "...or liars."

Zevran winced, held his face, and shook his head, but still held her hand. Shianni hid a shocked smile. Appalled, Cyrion chided, "Kallian! That's a horrible thing to say. Adaia and I taught you better than that!"

Kallian grimaced and muttered an half-hearted apology. Soris ushered his fiancee away; she was crying and indignant with offense.

-2-

Alistair threw his gauntlets onto his half-brother's dusty desk. He loudly searched for a quill, ink, and parchment and wrote the following to Kallian:

**_ K,_**

**_ Though, you are the Warden Commander, I'm still the senior Warden. Since my duties as King prevent me from doing so, I hereby command you to_**

He thought for a moment. He was mad at her but he didn't want to send her to Gwaren or something. Highever? "_No, I don't want to accidentially run into her while commemerated Duncan._" Remembering Arl Howe's lands, he wrote:

_**Amarathine, to rebuild the Wardens.**_

He signed and sealed the missive. A elf servant girl entered the room with a pitcher of water. After setting it down, she asked, "My King? Would you like that delivered?"

He scowled. Of course, she looked like...her. Alistair barked, "Get me Teagan," and she quickly complied.

"Yes?" Teagan asked as he opened the door to Alistair's office. "Please deliver this to the Warden Commander."

Teagan bowed his head slightly and took the letter. Before leaving, he asked, tentatively, "Alistair...weren't you and Kallian..."

Alistair bristled at her name and shouted, fiercely, "**Please** deliver **that** to the _**Warden Commander**_!" Teagan ducked out of the room without another word.

-3-

Kaitlyn had hoped to meet the woman who had done so much for her and her brother, Bevin. Though he was sad to part with their grandfather's sword, the gold the Warden gave her to pay for it made all the difference in their lives. Kaitlyn bought a foundry and she could afford to not send him to the Chantry as an orphan. He was apprenticed, in fact, to Wade and Herren and they taught him many things that Kaitlyn applied to making the foundry's materials purer.

Two of the people knotted around the Warden had left and Kaitly seized the opportunity. "Warden Commander?" she called. Kallian, watching Soris and his fiancee depart, shifted her attention to the person calling her..._title_. "_This should be good_," she thought.

Kaitlyn curtsied and said, "Warden Commander, I- I don't know if you remember me. My name is Kaitlyn. Ahm, you bought a sword from my little brother and I in Redcliffe."

"_Redcliffe_," Kallian thought, "_Al was still Eamon's stable-sleeping Chantry boy then._" She released a pained sigh with the memory. Kaitlyn, Cyrion, and Zevran incorrectly thought that the sigh was aimed at the younger woman. Kaitlyn swallowed and dropped her gaze. Cyrion furrowed his brows at his daughter in a silent chide. Zevran gave her a "you can do this" look. She focused on Kaitlyn and tried to place this human among the myriad she had met since being recruited to the Wardens. She mentally tugged at a thread of recognition. A thought came to her, "Was your brother named...Devin? Bevin?"

"Yes," Kaitlyn breathed, relieved. She continued, "Well, I wanted to thank you so much for your generosity. With that money, we both made it to Denerim safely. I own a foundry now and Bevin is the blacksmith's apprentice. He says he wants to learn how to make dragon-slaying swords like grandfather's."

Kallian had a soft spot for kids. And Bevin, though human, would have been in Amethyne's place, or worst, if Kallian hadn't intervened. So, she decided to lie and asked, "Was that sword named, 'the Green Blade'?," knowing the answer.

"Yes! Yes it was!"

She looked at Zevran so he wouldn't betray her lie, then said, "I used that sword to kill the Archdemon, actually."

Cyrion, Shianni, and Kaitlyn gaped at her. "You did!" Kaitlyn squealed.

"Yep, I did. And, since there are no more darkspawn, I don't think I'll be needing an Archdemon-slaying sword. Could I interest you in it?"

Flabbergasted, Kaitlyn tried to reach an agreement on the price. "Don't worry about it," Kallian said dismissively.

Just then, Teagan walked up and politely interrupted, "Warden Commander, a message from the King."

As Kallian unfurled the parchment, she said, "Teagan, could you accompany Kaitlyn here to Gorim's stall in the marketplace? Bodahn and Sandal are trading equipment with him. Anyway, there's a sword I want her to have. It's a veridium longsword, elven-make, has a notch near the handle, and is a bit curved. Smooth and a bit warm to the touch. I believe it has a Grandmaster Silverite rune in it. If it doesn't, could you have Sandal enchant it with one?"

Shianni's jaw dropped.

"Certainly," he replied. He extended the crook of his arm to Kaitlyn. As she slipped her arm threw his, they both caught eachother's eye and held it for a second. She blushed and he smiled. As they left, Kallian could hear Teagan rumble polite conversation and she thought, chuckling, "_I am that girl's good luck charm._"

Once they were gone, Shianni said, awestruck, "You can afford _runes_?"

Kallian blushed. It had been a while since she had thought about that. Remembering the letter, she read it. Irritated with its contents, she said, "Well, Zevran, could I interest you in coming with me to Amarathine? I've been order to rebuild the Wardens by my _superior_."

"In truth, for a chance to be by your side I would storm the Black City itself," said Zevran.

Kallian and Cyrion looked at him, touched. Her father made a small smile at him. Zevran chuckled to himself, "_Approval rating: +5. That should put me one up from netural in his book._"

"Never doubt it," said Zevran, pulling his Kallian closer to his side.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

**Notes**: Yeek, this was a hard one to write. It is 2.5 times as lemon-sour as the last one, although, I must admit, one of the lemons is rotten. Translation: IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY NON-CON, consider skipping section -3-; all you need to know is that Al is pretty fucked up right now and... ... ... ... ... *spoiler*... ... ... ...it -will- come back to haunt him.

Also, I have more chapters planned. :)

* * *

-1-

Alistair stared out the window for, apparently, a while. As the sun set, he watched merrymakers spilling ale from their flagons as they stumbled in the direction of The Pearl. "National holiday won't stop some professions," he mused, flatly. He peeled his forehead from the window then walked to the water pitcher on the entry table, poured himself some, and switched to the window on the other side of the office. His showcased armor on the stand looked like the imposter he felt he was.

Clouds were rolling in and the setting sun painted them with deep pinks and purples. The tree in the Alienage looked ablaze with color. Two birds, white against the sky, flitted up from its branches. They flew together for a while in happy loops and drives, but then suddenly parted.

He sighed.

"_Why didn't I say 'fuck all' and make her Queen?_," he thought, sighed again deeply, then perturbed, he muttered, "...She's being unreasonable." Another swig of water didn't satisfy him. He wanted something that would burn through the empty he was feeling; he called the servant girl.

When she peeked in the door, he said, "Bring me the strongest thing we have."

"Yes, my King," she said with a small curtsy. He rolled his eyes at his unwanted title. "_He dislikes everything I do_," she thought, crestfallen.

She returned and presented a frost-covered bottle. The label said 'Golden Scythe 4:90 Black'. World-weary, he recalled that Kallian gave him that as a joke when they were in Lothering.

"Drink with me," he commanded as she poured the liquid into his glass, vapors rising from the bottle as she did so.

"My King?"

He narrowed his eyes and crinkled his nose at the phrase. "Drink with me," he repeated. He pounded another glass on the table and plopped down on his side of the table.

Tentatively, she poured herself a fourth of a glass. "More," he insisted, having started his already, "It's a national holiday, for Andraste's sake."

She reluctantly did so.

"What is your name?" Alistair asked.

"Enansal," she replied.

"Does that mean something in your language?" he asked, speech slurring ever so slightly.

He never was a hard liquor drinker. Sometimes ale, occasionally wine, but generally he was the designated carriage driver. What he didn't know was that 'the strongest thing we have' would have even made Oghren drunk have after three rounds. He was half-way through his first.

She swallowed then replied, shyly, "It-, it means 'gift' in the common tongue."

"You Dalish?" Swig.

"My Father was."

"And how are you now in my employ?" Another swig.

Enansal hesitated then said, "My Mamae couldn't travel while, ahm, pregnant and she and Father stayed behind when the clan moved on. He thought we could catch up with them eventually. But she died shortly after I could walk. Without Mamae, there was no one to watch me while he hunted. So, he and I came to Denerim. Years later, when he died, I went to the orphanage. A kind women adopted me and trained me to be a servant. And, now, here I am."

Alistair grunted and took yet another swig. It was strange how much this Enansal girl looked like...

A waff of memory surrounded him. The flickering light of the fire dancing outside her- _their_ tent. The chirping crickets. Her soft moan in his ear as he entered her tight heat. The friction of their skin. The beautiful flush and sheen on her skin when she stifled her cry...

...Morrigan, however, was loud.

And as wild as he'd always thought she'd be.

-2-

Alistair never noticed how much Morrigan's hips swayed. When Kallian had her along, Morrigan was always rearguard. A full view of the field for ranged attacks meant he could only ever see her out of the corner of his eye. Which wasn't entirely bad; her tits looked succulent and her robes showed a great deal.

He licked his lips and swallowed.

The one upshot of being a Templar was going to be the proximity to mages. All that pulsating arcane energy would have felt like being on the edge of something...enticing...all the time. But Morrigan, slowly walking toward him, had never been in the Circle. If the thought of _them_ was enticing, she was...dangerous...

And delicious.

...Kallian was funny. Kind. Beautiful, even by elf standards.

But banal in comparison.

Gravity pulled on Morrigan's already excellent boobs as she crawled toward him. Her movements were spider-like and her strange, yellow eyes were boring into his. There was a feral power behind them that was intimidating, to say the least.

His smalls were tight around his hips; yes, this was definitely dangerous...

And...

He scooted back on the soft mattress, knowing he was way out of his league. His back hit the headboard sooner than he expected. His lips parted and he took a sharp breath in. She leaned forward, not to kiss him as he had dared to hope, but to blow out the candle. All light in the room went out.

Morrigan swiftly attacked his neck with sucking and biting. She ripped the fabric of his underwear and his member sprung free. He tore at her knickers but she batted him away. With claws.

His hand stung and he could feel blood welling within the gashes. As she took him into herself, she slowly licked his wounds from wrist to fingertip with his forearm tucked snugly between her breasts.

When she kissed him on the mouth, he tasted his own blood, smelled magic, and felt a tantalizing chill. Her thrusts were deliberate at first but gradually became more quick and bestial. He risked holding onto her hips and he felt a small cut and her torn knickers. She thought, "Crotchless" ...and he heard her.

For a moment, concern snuck into his mind. She counteracted it by forcefully cradling his head against her chest, arching her back, and groaning wantonly. He feasted on the saltiness of her skin and toppled forward.

Her nails ripped the skin on his back. After a few pumps from Alistair, Morrigan pushed him onto his bleeding back. Her nipples swung just out of reach of this eager mouth as she continued her previous pace. He finally caught one and suck on it hard. She chuckled deeply.

She threw her head back. Orgasm overtook her and he followed after. Alistair wasn't sure if he heard her moan with release...or howl.

Later, when Kallian asked in private, he would lie and say it was like diddling his sister.

-3-

He returned from his reverie to see the floor speeding toward him. Enansal reached and caught him by the arm, breaking his fall. He slowly lifted his heavy-lidded eyes; he felt a familiar magical chill on his arm.

Alistair pulled Enansal beneath him to the floor. He covered her mouth with rough kisses, as she kicked and flailed. He shimmied her dress up her thighs, ripped though her underwear, and struggled with his breeches.

She screamed in his mouth as he entered her and thrust uncoordinatedly. His hand was over her mouth so he could concentrate on his method. When he came, she bit him. He reflectively backhanded her and her teeth were lined with her blood. Her lips did not move but he heard her shriek, "_**NO!**_" as he flew back into the table. The glasses of Golden Scythe turned over. The bottle bounced then broke on the floor.

Scrambling to her feet, she looked at the cold emanating from her palms. With a sneer and a flick of her wrist, she switched to fire and set the alcohol a-light.

His blood boiled as he twitched in place. He couldn't move.

She knocked over the desk, the armor stand, and the bookcase. After her rage, she stormed over to him, still helplessly twitching. She hissed, "Fucking shem-lord."

When she slammed the door, the spell paralyzing him gradually began to break. Flames threaten him and the curtains. He clumsily jumped over the burning, disheveled table to the entry table and doused the fire with the water from the pitcher.

Panting from the heat and exertion, he surveyed his wrecked office. He slide down the wall, the head in his hands.

-4-

The next morning Teagan hammered on the door. "Alistair? Are you in there?"

He groggily opened his eyes. A small puddle of drool focused before them on the charred floor. He blinked and squinted at the light pouring in from the singed, undrawn curtain.

"Here," he said, tasting his own foul breath.

Teagan swung the door open and hit the back of Alistair's head. Seeing stars already from the previous night's excess, the pain burst white lights behind his eyes.

"Al- Alistair? What happened here?"

Not really remembering, he quipped, "Holiday party got, uh, out of hand, I guess." Teagan offered a hand as Alistair gingerly got up off the floor.

Eamon raced passed the door then, realizing Teagan and Alistair standing there, doubled back and scolded the King.

"I don't remember, Eamon!" yelled Alistair. "The last thing I remember was throwing water on the curtains."

"Well how, exactly, did they catch on fire in the first place?"

Water. Fire. Cold. Morrigan. Kallian. ...Enan-something.

"The servant girl! She's a blood mage!"

Teagan immediately left to alert the templars. Turning to Alistair, Eamon asked, "Do you think she was sent to assassinate you?"

Alistair thought for a moment. Then, horrified, it came back to him. "_Uh, how many bastards can a unwed **bastard** King make in one week?_," he thought, rubbing his temples, "_Elf. Witch. And now Elf-witch._" Disgust with himself coated his mouth.

As Teagan returned, Alistair confessed that he "may have" provoked her. They looked at each other, not comprehending. "Let's just say, if she's pregant, Connor will not have been the only mage in the family," said Alistair.

Teagan shut his eyes with a pained expression as Eamon blinked and asked, "Wh- what did say?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: : dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

* * *

**Notes**: Didn't have this one planned at first but felt compelled to allay some lore-compliance concerns. It is plotty and _**ANGSTY**_. We'll come up for fluffy air next chapter, _thank goodness_. If you skipped Chapter 3 entirely because of the non-con warning (instead of just _section 3_ of Chapter 3), this Chapter probably won't make much sense.

**Question / Spoiler**: Anyone know how old Bevin is, post-Blight? Google / Wikia were no help.

* * *

Teeth clenched, Enansal slammed the door. She walked quickly as to not draw any more attention to herself, running when she felt she could. But when ever she saw someone carrying a bottle, pitcher, or basin, the memory would zing through her...and she'd feel _him_ twitch. Through the corridors, out the courtyard, and passed the gate, no one stopped her.

In the marketplace, there was still a boisterous crowd. The guards spoke loudly to each other about who (and if) they should lock up for indecent exposure. Tipsy noble-born girls laughed obnoxiously at stumbling drunk dwarves. Some elves were singing and making music while others hopped and spun to the beat.

"Enansal! How are you?" called Alarith, passing a pipe around the circle of elves he was sitting with. She tensed when he pulled on her arm as she passed. "Hey, Enansal? Are you okay?"

"N- No, I'm not."

"Wanna join us?," he asked, gesturing to those clustered around him.

An idea struck her. "Will you open your shop up for me?"

"Whoa, hey, hey," he said, standing and looking toward the distracted guards, "No need to shout. What sort of stuff do you need?"

Annoyed, Enansal whispered in his ear, "Can we talk about it _in your shop_?"

"Oh, right, yeah. Hold on." The pipe had come back to Alarith's spot in the circle. He took a long puff, held it, and blew out mournfully. "Such a waste," he said as another took his place.

Enansal weaved along the edge of the crowd. Alarith followed leisurely, greeting others as he came. When she finally made it to his shop, she paced outside until he strolled up. As he fumbled with his keys, she said, "I'm going to get some more money from my apartment." She handed him all she had on her and asked, "Can you start gathering health poultices and injury kits for me?"

His hand started to turn the doorknob. He stopped and asked, "Enansal, what's going on?"

She shifted in place uneasily. "Listen, let me go get the rest of my money. I've, uh, I've got to leave town."

"But you work for the King! That's got to be the best job there is!"

She stopped shifting and said, a bit more hostile than she meant, "Alarith, do you want my money or not?"

"Okay, alright," he said, ducking inside.

Enansal looked up and down the alleyway. The Alienage was deserted. Understandable since the curfew was extended for the night. When she got to her apartment, she quietly slipped inside, grabbed some food, clothes, and other sundries, and threw them in her pack. Then she searched under her bed for the loose floorboard. She strained to get the bag of coins out from its hiding place. Remembering, she gathered some old rags and stuffed them on top of everything else in her pack. Finally, she carried the bag of coins like a fussy child to Alarith's shop with the pack strapped to her back.

"What is that, your life's savings?," exclaimed Alarith when she saw her struggle. With a thud of the bag on the counter, she panted, simply, "Yes."

He whistled and was going to ask what she was up to again but thought better of it. "...So, what can I get you? I've got salves, balms..." Then he smiled deviously, "I've also got some deathroot and deep mushrooms if you're after that sort of thing."

She rolled her eyes and dropped her pack to the floor. "Thanks for getting the _health poultices_ and _injury kits_ started for me," she and, facetiously, then muttered, "Start counting...I'll do it myself." Rummaging in her pack as he did so, she retrieved an apple and rolled it to him across the counter. His eyes widened in delight and devoured it quickly.

"Where'd you get 25-silver coin purses?"

"I knew a guy in the treasury." She harrumphed, surprised that she was already using the past-tense.

As she cleaned out his disorganized supply, she noticed a map of Ferelden. "_That'll come in handy_," she thought and added it to the pile. "I've got six regular poul-..."

"Hold on," he said, licking his fingers, "I'm still counting. Thank the Maker you rolled some of these or I'd be here all night!"

"_Ugh, gross, who licks their fingers counting nasty coins?_," she thought. Scooping her take into her arms, she balanced it over to his register.

"Okay...six regular poultices, that's...51 silver. Plus three small injur...that's 49 and a half silver. And with the big poultice, kit, and the map, that all comes to...249 silver and 63 bits."

Enansal thought, "_Higher than the vhenadahl and still can do math..._"

"With what you gave me earlier and the stash you brought in, you've got 352 silver and 78 bits left. ...See anything else you'd like?"

She gave a cursory look around the shop. Some robes in the window caught her eye. "How much for the disgui- robes?"

Alarith raised an eyebrow but replied, "Three sovereign."

"Three sovereign! How do you even have something that expensive here?"

Undeterred, he said, "You really want to carry _300 silver_ around to...where ever you are going?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, turned, and went to get a closer look. There were Senior Enchanter's robes. "_They'd help improve my talent. ...Better to hunt a wayward Circle mage than maleficar._" She asked Alarith over her shoulder as she took the robes off the mannequin, "How did you get these again?"

"I'll tell you after you tell me what's going on." He slid the coin purses off and behind the counter, into the heap of money that was once hers.

She considered her wording then said, "I'm...well, I...I resigned. And I'm going to find the Dalish," then to herself, "_if I survive..._"

"Resigned?," he asked, skeptically. "_You mean fired. No one ever resigns_," he thought. Shrugging, he said, "Got them from my lyrium supplier. He said he got them from the Circle after their...thing."

"Are these a dead person's robes?"

"He washed them! I did too before I put them in the fucking _window_."

Enansal doubted his level of sanitation was equal to hers but she needed a disguise...and needed to get going. "Fine, whatever. Put it all in my bag."

She hoisted her pack onto her shoulders as he bagged everything up. He came around the corner and fastened the bag to her pack, handing her the map. "Well, good luck, I guess."

"Thanks, Alarith. For everything."

As she opened the door, he called, "The Dalish are...something, you know," then continued shyly, "Anything I can do to change your mind?"

She lowered her head and thought, "_He picks now, of all times, to finally..._," then walked out without responding.

It was amazing the vhenadahl survived the battle. A breeze at its upper branches caused the some of the leaves to spiral down into Enansal's path to the orphanage.

The place was a dump, even for the Alienage. She kicked debris from in front of the door and opened it. It creaked loudly. She looked around for snoopers then quickly entered. Her old room was to the left. She set her stuff down by the collapsed bunk bed and pulled out the old rags. Kicking herself for forgetting, she searched the kitchen for a sturdy pot and pan. When she returned to her old room, she stripped, stowed the pan in her pack, and pulled out the large health poultice and the injury kit.

"_A quarter of my savings_," she thought, mournfully, "_If this works, I suppose it will be worth it..._" Then, anger rising quickly within her, she muttered "Fucking shem-lord. I will **not** have your **_bastard_**!"

...She did not know how highly improbable that outcome was. Had she known, many things, both lovely and terrible, that came to pass would have been avoided...

The demon sniffed. A delicious breeze fluttered the tear in the Veil. "_Ah_," it thought, fiery fingers parting the flap, "_They miss me_."

Casting ice and fire spells in rapid succession, she filled the pot with water. Then, wincing, she thought, "_Here we go_," and placed her hand on her lower abdomen. Blood gushed from her vagina and down her legs. Quaking from the blood loss, she fell to the floor and fought the corked poultice with her teeth. She downed the medicine and the hemorrhaging slowly waned. Catching her breath, she shakily untied the injury kit's strings and hunted for the pain killers. Their effect was thankfully swift. Color returned to her lips and her breath was less shallow. She was covered in blood.

The demon inched from the tear. It didn't _see_ anyone...

Relieved it worked, she mopped herself up with the water and old rags. She flung the rest of the water on the mess. The bloody water seeped threw the thin wall and pooled outside.

The demon continued to move cautiously and thought, "_Things feel like before..._" It risked exiting its room. Floor panels sizzled and flamed as it passed slowly down the hall.

The curfew bell rang and there was a collective grouse from the elves in the marketplace. Feet dragging, they made their way toward the gate.

Once dry, Enansal put on her new robes, gathered her things, and left, leaving the rags to rot like the rest of that Maker-forsaken place.

The events of the day, the conditions she just left, and the curfew bell all incensed her. A warm, humid breeze tousled her hair as her neighbors returned. Standing on the vhenadahl's thick roots, Enansal felt inspired to address them: "Why do we cower and comply to the whims of these shemlin? What profit do be receive for doing the menial tasks they charge us with? And who here has been whipped because they didn't do something '_just so_'?" Eyes and ears turned to her attention.

The demon moved faster, licking its lips. When it reached Enansal's old room, its saliva hissed on its skin.

And the muggy breeze outside increased.

"I am tired of the _shem-lords_ taking what they want," her voice cracked, "when they want it. ...You saw today the disdain the King has for our kind. And he was a companion of the Warden Commander! If she can't get respect from the shem-lords, what hope do we have? That's why I'm going to find the Dalish." She paused then asked, "Who here will come with me?"

Alarith finally put two and two together. Amethyne and some other children came forward. Enansal sighed; she was hoping for a rebellion. Or at least Alarith. The crowd muttered in tentative agreement amongst themselves when Shianni stepped forward.

"You are right, Enansal," said Shianni. "That's why I won't stop you," she turned back to the crowd, particularly to the children, "or anyone from leaving the Alienage. But know this: you have a voice amongst the shem-lords. My cousin, the Warden Commander, honored me with service to you in the Landsmeet. I will be true to you. Kallian remains true to us. And that's two more elves in authority than there were before the Blight."

The wind died.

Their audience cheered and departed optimistically. The demon felt the change unappetizing and returned down the hall, the steaming, bloody rags cradled in its arms. "_Not quite ripe_," it thought, "_but soon_."

Shianni reached out for Enansal's hand and squeezed it. Then she said, "Wait until sundown, when the watch changes. Kallian did it all the time." She made a small smile that Enansal did not return. As Shianni left, Alarith walked up.

"I'm sorry, Enansal."

"For what?," she asked, trying to not let him see her cry.

"For...the King. He's losing a, uh,...great person."

She sniffed and spat, "Yeah, well, that girl is dead and he's the one who did it."

He closed his eyes. It was as he feared.

With a red nose and eyes bloodshot with tears, she said, "I can't stay, Alarith. When he-," she shuddered, "I-, I'm a mage. An apostate, Alarith. They'll be hunting me regardless."

Amethyne walked up and said, sweetly, "Please don't cry. You don't have to go alone. All of us kids want to come with you." Enansal looked at Amethyne, heart-broken, then to Alarith. She said, "Alarith, teach them. Teach them what you know and what the Dalish taught you." He nodded his head solemnly and pulled Amethyne close.

Enansal bent down so she was eye-level with Amethyne and said, "Be good." She kissed her on the forehead. Hot tears were streaming from her eyes. Then, with a forced smile, she said toward Amethyne (but more to Alarith), "Don't let him turn you into a runner or a lookout. And only use herbalism for medicinal purposes."

He chuckled. "Don't worry, Enansal, I'm out of that business. Now that you've made me the richest elf in the Alienage."

"_Of all times..._" she thought. Shaking the thought of what could have been from her mind, she said, "Amethyne, I'll come back for you when I can."

"Promise?"

"I do." She hooked the girl's pinky with her own. Amethyne smiled at the gesture but didn't reveal her doubt, "_Mother promised too._"

Enansal rose and turned before Alarith could do or say anything. The bell, signaling the change in the watch, had chimed.

The next morning during breakfast (for the fortunate), the templars raided Alienage. No one, not even the children, said a word.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: : / / dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

* * *

**Notes**: For this fic, Bevin was 12.5 years old when Kallian met him. Redcliffe was her first destination after Lothering. Blight at one year and Awakening at 6 months, makes Bevin 14 years old in the following fluffiness. And sorry, RL stuff prevented me from my posting goal...

**AU Warning**: Section 2 of this chapter is AU because, I think, Bioware was reaching on how to get it to work. (Yes, I'm critiquing the creators; Mythal protect me.) Please let me know what you think in the comments. :) It's also AU because, as we all probably know, Zevran did not accompany the Warden Commander in Awakening.

**Update**: Reworked section 2 so it's more descriptive and split it into another section. If you'd already read this chapter, you've got the gist but I always appreciate your feedback.

* * *

-1-

It had been six months since she met Bann Teagan beneath the King's balcony. And in six months and two weeks, they would be married. Messengers from Redcliffe brought her the relief of his words every few days but she couldn't take it anymore. She needed to see his kind, blue eyes. Hear the rumble of his voice. Feel his skin. Taste his kiss...

Kaitlyn wore a path between the larder, the study, and her bedroom, packing. "Bevin? Have you finished yet?"

"Uh, yeah...nearly," he called, distracted. He held his grandfather's sword with reverence. "_This sword...killed the Archdemon_," he thought. The veridium glittered slightly as the sunlight reflected off of its surface. He felt along the flat of the curved blade. It was smooth except for the silverite rune imbued near the hilt. And it was eerily warm, like it was alive but without a pulse.

Critiquing himself in the mirror's reflection, he practiced a few of the moves Herren had taught him. The blade had good balance. He remembered how heavy it felt just two years ago. A year and a half of hammering at Wade's anvil took all traces of boyhood from him; he was cut. The sword was more like an extension of his arm, slicing through the air.

"Bevin!"

"Yeah, hold on a second." He sheathed the blade, grabbed his bags, and headed downstairs.

The driver took Kaitlyn and Bevin's belongings and packed them in the carriage.

"Are you sure you still want to come?" asked Kaitlyn, "I don't know what you'll do once we get there."

"Kaitlyn, the road isn't safe. What if there are darkspawn?"

"Well, I must admit that I'm glad you are coming. But I don't know if it's necessary. I understand there's been a flare up north of here in Amaranthine but that's all. The Blight is over, the King said so."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure what I think of the King."

"Bevin! That's a terrible thing to say!"

"Amethyne said his servant girl quit the day he took office. And _left Denerim_. I can't imagine he is that nice if he could get someone so riled only **hours **after meeting him." It dawned on him that he just revealed a trusted secret. He continued, "Um, don't tell anyone that."

Kaitlyn raised her eyebrow. "You and this Amethyne talk much, do you?" she asked. She smiled at him as the rims of his ears reddened.

He swallowed and said, "When we can, yes."

"Well, tell me about her," Kaitlyn stated, crossing her arms in mock disapproval. Bevin rolled his eyes, looked at his feet, then said, "She runs deliveries around the market square. And sometimes she's supposed to pick up stuff from the smithy that's too heavy for her...and I-...I walk with her."

Kaitlyn couldn't help but grin. "And what does she look like?"

Bevin glanced at her with a 'why-are-you-torturing-me' face, then said, "...She's got red hair. ...Brown-ish eyes. She's a tad shorter than me but tall for an elf." He didn't mention how her ears poked through her hair when she wore it down. How wavy it was when she didn't have it in braids. That she undid her braids because she knew he liked it. And that she saved Wade's pickup for last so they didn't have to rush. Wade fussed at him when he returned, but he didn't care. He stayed late picking up shop every day, without complaint.

"Is that her there?" Kaitlyn asked, gesturing to an elf girl leaving one of their neighbor's homes with a missive.

His head spun around and, without replying, he left in the girl's direction. Kaitlyn chuckled then called, "You've got five minutes," as the driver helped her into the carriage's cabin.

Amethyne's face lit up when she saw him coming toward her. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," he returned. After a few moments of bashful silence, she offered, "I don't suppose you'll be at Herren and Wade's today."

"Oh, yeah, no. Sorry. Uh, kinda a spur of the moment thing. ...I… left you a note at the shop."

"Oh, okay. That's my next stop." Then she ventured, "Did you...want it delivered?"

"No! No, um, it's- it's for you," he stammered, shielding his reddening ears from her view.

She smiled; she hoped so but was glad to be sure. "When will you be back?" she asked.

"_Not soon enough_," he thought, then said, "Oh, I dunno. Beginning of next week?"

"They let you have days off?"

Bevin hated it when their conversations strayed into differences of their circumstance. He knew if it wasn't for the Warden Commander, he'd probably have the same lot she did. And they would have never met...

He changed the subject, "Well, it's not like it's a holiday or anything. I'm protecting my sister from darkspawn."

Amethyne's eyes shot wide. "Darkspawn?"

"Yeah, they are in Amaranthine, up north. But who knows where they'll crop up next." He then unsheathed the Green Blade and said, "But I'll show 'em. Did I ever tell you that the Warden Commander used this sword to kill the Archdemon?"

She shook her head, impressed as he had hoped. "Yep, ran her through. Shortest Blight on record, they say." He sheathed it and then immediately felt silly. Walking and talking was easier than saying goodbye.

"Well, be careful," she said, clearly concerned. Then, before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed her hand, said, "I've got good reason to be," and kissed it. Their eyes met, Amethyne's misting, and right then Kaitlyn called from the carriage. Bevin reached for her cheek and wiped a rolling tear.

"You- you need to go," Amethyne said, turning from his hand. He wanted to kiss her so badly; instead he hesitated then turned to go. Jogging to the carriage, he called over his shoulder, "Read my letter."

She replied, "I will."

He waved as the carriage rolled forward and her heart sank. "Darkspawn?" she fretted. She watched the carriage until it rounded the corner and decided to talk to Shianni. "_She'll know what's going on_," she thought, then, "_but first my last...pickup._"

-2-

The messenger pounded on the door, heaving for breath. The watch guard slid the peek hole open and dryly said, "State your business."

"Darkspawn- at the- Keep," panted the messenger. Then he toppled over.

The guard sprung to his feet, strained against the pulley, lifted the gate, and dragged the exhausted man inside, letting the gate fall with a thud. He poured water on the other man's face, smacking it with his gloved hand a couple times, trying to revive him. Then he rang the bell; other guards rushed to his post in response to the alarm.

The watch guard said, "Darkspawn at the Keep, he says," gesturing to messenger who was still breathing hard and shaking.

"Quick, you, Trenton, run the message to the King!" ordered a captain, "And you lot, carry him to the healer." Trenton scurried off to report while the others lifted the messenger. His head lolled backward; tendrils of taint were revealed on his throat. The guard on his left saw and immediately let go of him.

"Oy, watcha doing, Ellis?"

As Ellis shed his gloves, he pointed at the messenger's neck with a shaking finger and said, "He- he- got the taint." Immediately the others let go and the messenger fell to the ground.

The captain turned and demanded, "What's going on here? Pick him up!"

"B- But he's g- got the taint, ser," stammered Ellis. The captain's eyes widened then he barked, "Ellis, grab a torch. You lot, shed all that touched him."

As Ellis returned with the torch, the rest of the men removed everything from the belt up and piled it in a heap near the messenger. The captain spoke to the shuddering messenger, "You've done Denerim a service. Many owe you their lives. Your valor will not be forgotten."

The man nodded and, with that, the captain turned, strode a few paces, strung his bow, and shot him through the neck. Blood gushed and spurted from the wound and, save the captain, they all recoiled and needlessly covered their mouths and noses. Then Ellis lowered the torch and set the gear and the dying man a-light. The watch guard poured water around the growing fire so it wouldn't spread.

Denerim had seen too many flames lately.

-3-

"What!" exclaimed Alistair, when he heard the news. He crossed to the window. A cloud of black smoke was rising beyond and to the right of the Alienage's tree on the horizon. "_Kallian_," he thought. Then shock, followed by dread, filled him. "**_Morrigan_**," he thought, certain of her betrayal.

"Summon a detachment of templars," he ordered, "I'm going to Amarathine."

Eamon stepped forward and said, "Must you go _yourself_? What if this is a trap set by Loghain supporters?"

"Eamon, there's smoke on the horizon _within_ the city wall. That means the messenger carried the taint with him." Alistair turned from the window to face Eamon and said, "I'm going. It's what **Grey Wardens** do, King or not."

"But t_emplars_? On darkspawn? Darkspawn emissaries, certainly, but are there _that _many of them?"

"If my hunch is correct, yes, templars are _very_ necessary," Alistair replied, gravely. "I'm going, Eamon." He thought but did not say, "_It's the least I can do for the Wardens...considering…Maker, what if we **didn't** stop the Blight at all…or made it **worse**_." He grimaced, grabbed his showcased armor, and left. Eamon threw his arms up in exasperation.

As they marched, double-quick time, Alistair began to question himself. Maybe it wasn't Morrigan. Maybe the local dwarves just got too ambitious. Or something. Maybe Kallian just wanted to see him and this was all an elaborate joke… A really, really elaborate…

At nightfall when Alistair and his entourage arrived, Zevran suggested in Kallian's ear that she bow to the King as he approached. Alistair misread that and then assumed her bow as mockery. "_Oh, I see_," he thought.

Alistair said, feigning cheerfulness, "It looks like I arrived a bit late. Too bad." He paused, looked Kallian in the eye, then said, "I rather miss the whole darkspawn-killing thing."

Her eyes narrowed. "_Boo hoo, you're King of the fucking country_," she thought.

Alistair expected a snide comment and, when he didn't get one, he back-peddled, "I...wanted to come and give the Wardens a formal welcome. I certainly wasn't expecting this. What's the situation?"

While Varel and he spoke, Kallian raised an eyebrow and thought, "_The King of Ferelden wanted to welcome the Orlesians? That's...**diplomatic**._" Then she looked around at Alistair's party and thought,_ "...What's with the templars?_" The trickle of curiosity became a downpour of realization, "**_...MORRIGAN!_**"

Her thoughts consumed her, "Why, why, **WHY** did I trust that **_Witch_**? 'Let me make a demon-baby, nothing will happen.' …Damn it, damn it, **DAMN IT**!" She felt sick, swaying slightly. Then she realized that Alistair had asked her if she was hurt. He slipped and had called her 'love'. She glanced at Zevran and deflected with a tough response. More talking followed; she couldn't concentrate. Oghren jolted her attention when he brashly piped up, "Hey! What am I? Chopped nug livers?"

While Anders muttered something to himself, Zevran smiled and took the opportunity, "My friend, your height unfortunately makes you easy to..._over look_."

Kallian barely acknowledged Zevran's cheesy joke, to his disappointment. She looked at Alistair and thought, "_What have we done?_" Zevran misinterpreted their unspoken gaze and grew quiet.

As Oghren finished his monologue about joining the Wardens, Kallian absently stated that spitting wasn't allowed.

And then Alistair asked her about the mage, Anders. "_Haven't had much luck with mages_," she thought, her thoughts again returning to Morrigan. "_And this one killed all those templars. ...Not in the mood to be double-crossed again_," she decided. The templars handled him roughly, binding his hands, kicking him so he'd trip, kicking him harder when he did trip. Kallian saw one of the templars readying the noose for Ander's hanging...and felt a pang of regret.

Mhairi said nothing. Zevran and Oghren both looked at Kallian, surprised. She and Alistair shared a knowing look. As Alistair turned to go, she said to Zevran, "I'll explain later." Zevran only nodded. "_So she plans to 'let me down gently', as they say. Well…it was good while it lasted._"

"You over-looking me too?" asked Oghren, more annoyed than joking.

"No, Oghren, definitely not. Glad you're here. And I'll tell you after Zevran." Then she thought, "_Or rather, I'll tell you after Zevran coaches me on how to **lie** about this._" Zevran looked at her, confused, but said nothing.

Mhairi continued to say nothing but disagreed with the Warden Commander's decision. She knew it wasn't her place to question Ser Tabris' command but secretly she hoped the dwarf would tell her after a few ales.

"_After the Joining, I suppose_," she thought, "_We'll all be Wardens then_."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: : / / dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

* * *

**Notes**: In case you missed it, I updated the latter part of the previous chapter. Slowed it down and added more detail.

Also, for this fic, I assume that design 2 of the blood writing tattoo patterns (see dragon age . wik ia / Blood _ Writing) is the vallaslin for Elgar'nan, God of Vengeance.

* * *

-1-

Alarith sat on a stump, drinking ale with Adwen as they watched Amethyne and some of the other orphans climbing trees. Shianni's tip to Enansal about when to best sneak out of the city had quickly spread through out the Alienage. Amethyne bugged him to death until he agreed to risk it with her.

Adwen, who was sitting on the ground next to Alarith, set his mug down, stretched, and leaned back to look west at the watercolor sunset. "This is the life, isn't it, Alarith? A fuck lot better that working for that damn new shem cook. Did I ever tell you about the last one?"

"Yes," Alarith replied, not wanting to hear, yet again, the story of how he knocked the last cook out and got away with it. "_Small wonder you haven't been turned in since you tell **everyone**_," thought Alarith.

"Oh, well, uh...sorry. ...You've no idea how long that shem had it coming." Alarith could tell Adwen was reveling in the memory by the doofy expression he had on his face. Alarith shook his head and took a pull from his drink. "_Yes, Adwen, I do actually_," he thought, "_from the last time you told me!_"

Adwen continued, "Well anyway, all this kinda makes me want to run off with the Dalish. You ever think about it? ...That Enansal gal did, I think. ...Didn't you and she have a, uh, a thing going?"

Alarith paused, said "no", finished his ale, and got up. He lied, saying, "I've got to take a leak. Watch the kids instead of the sunset, alright?"

Adwen made a face and sat more upright, signaling that he would. With that, Alarith turned to find a secluded spot. He was looking back over his shoulder to confirm Adwen was actually going to it when Amethyne apparently lost her footing and hung from a cracking branch.

The memory of the Tevinter hunters setting torches to the tree in which his family was hiding flashed before Alarith's eyes. "Mijha, no!" he yelled, and raced to catch Amethyne as she fell.

"Mijha! Mijha, are you alright?" asked Alarith.

"Mijha? Is that Tevinter for something?" asked Amethyne, gingerly getting up with Alarith's help.

Alarith shook his head and focused on the confused Amethyne. It never occurred to him how much she looked like Mijha, his sis-...his dead...

He knelt down and hugged her tightly. "Ow, Alarith! My wrist! What's wrong with you?" squawked Amethyne.

If Alarith wasn't afraid of heights, he would have been dead with his family. But if he had hid _faster_, he wouldn't have tipped the Tevinter hunters off to their hiding spot. The last time he saw Mijha, the blisters and melted skin obscured her brown eyes... His father and mother were unrecognizable.

When the elf-shem couple found him, they temporarily broke from the rest of the caravan. The other shems wanted to leave him but the couple, ex-slaves themselves, pitied him. His cries didn't stay the hand of the Dalish. Their poisoned arrows similarly disfigured the caravan travelers (and his adoptive family). Just like the Tevinters had done to his real one. ...He fled from the Dalish as soon as he could.

Returning to the present, his voice cracked as he deflected, "Let's get you a injury kit. Is just your wrist hurt?"

She nodded and they turned to the stump where the pack was...and where Adwen was watching the sunset.

"**Damnit Adwen!**"

"What?" he asked, lazily turning his gaze. Alarith emphatically pointed to Amethyne's swelling wrist and smacked him on the back of the head. "Get up, idiot, and gather the kids. Unless you can't be **bothered**?" scolded Alarith.

Adwen scrambled to his feet and left to do so while Alarith rummaged in his pack. He retrieved an injury kit but also found a small, forgotten pouch of crushed Spirit Shard. He tucked it into his sleeve. As he dressed her wrist, Alarith also pocketed the pain killers from the injury kit. He quickly popped the pills but Amethyne called him on it: "You aren't supposed to have those with ale."

The pills forced tension to leave his shoulders. "You sound like Enansal," he replied, instantly missing her.

Adwen returned with all of the kids except two. Alarith said, unsurprised by his incompetence, "Stay here. And **WATCH** them!" Out of sight, Alarith snorted some of the crushed Spirit Shard. "_If the Dalish taught me anything, Enansal_," he mused, "_it was how to avoid trouble and get into it at the same time._"

When Alarith returned with the two missing children, Adwen was surprised that he wasn't as mad as he was only minutes ago. Not wanting to push it, he didn't say anything on the way back.

Amethyne noticed the change in his demeanor too and asked, "Alarith, is something wrong? You've been really weird today."

He replied, "Nothing. Just...ready to be home," and said no more.

-2-

The other Alienage kids made fun of her.

Her clothes were funny. Her ears were _really_ pointy. And her dad had strange markings all over his face.

As in, his _entire_ face; one side was dark with weird skin-colored vines and the other side its mirror opposite. He said is what a symbol of Elgar'nan, his chosen god, the elven god of vengeance. He said he chose it after hearing what the Tevinter Imperium had done to his fiancee while she was enslaved, before she escaped back to him. He said it was unfathomable that the Hahren hadn't taught the children the Pantheon and that, if they had a Keeper, their education would be greatly improved.

He and the Hahren didn't get along very well. The grown-ups all muttered behind her father's back that he'd never get a job, looking like that. And the Chantry sisters called him a heathen.

But he didn't care. Only his daughter, Enansal, meant anything to him.

Until they came to the Alienage when she was nine, they both were vegetarians. With her mother dead, he couldn't (and wouldn't) leave her to go hunt. They both were really skinny, even by Alienage standards. But proud. And strong.

It took a while but her dad finally got a job as a wood-cutter. His boss appreciated that he could always source the best trees to fulfill a particular contract. Mahogany for doors. Cherry for dining sets. Even bamboo for eating utensils.

But never ironwood, a sacred part of his culture. And never weeping willows or sycamores, in memory and honor of the fallen dead.

His coworkers, who took the contracts he rejected, weren't as discriminate as he was. He knew this about them and expected to die while working whenever he left. But he was a wise man and, despite their differences, he trusted the Hahren with a note to Enansal, if ever there was a fatal mishap.

And there was. But, it didn't kill him. He returned to his daughter a maimed, unemployable elf. And still proud.

Enansal looked after him. Money was a foreign concept to her (and her father) but she was thrifty in her way. She was also very tidy and hygienic. She liked to cook and keep house. When she was of age, she planned to have the vallaslin of Sylaise or Mythal written on her face. Or perhaps Falon'Din in honor of her mamae. ...Or Elgar'nan, as her father had, for the same reason.

Her father taught her how to read, like his Keeper had taught him. He couldn't write, though, even before the accident. But he knew a trick: take a page, lay it on the back side of the other page, lightly rub a graphite stone on it, and voila, a copy to read or to share.

The Chantry sisters gave her books, and she copied them, just like he taught her. When she showed him, he cursed them for their cunning gall and threw her copies and their books into the fire. They smacked her knuckles with a ruler for her "carelessness" then tried to set up a time when they could talk with her father. They didn't believe her when she said he was going to home-school her from then on and that he didn't want to receive their charity.

They came anyway with baskets of food and salves...and books. Always books.

Even with only one arm and leg, he managed to string his bow and fire off a shot when they came with the landlord's keys. He hit a sister in the shoulder; when he was younger, it would have been right between the eyes. The templar didn't realize Enansal was watching from the kitchen when he ran her father through the stomach with his blade.

That was the first time her palms burned with the fury she felt inside. It scared her. She ran to the pot of water she was about to boil potatoes in to extinguish her palms. But they continued to burn...and boiled the water. When the other sister came into the kitchen, her fires stopped.

"Enansal, are you okay? What are you doing? ...Do you know what just happen?" the sister asked, unsure if she saw anything.

She lied and said, "I'm fine. Making soup." Then with a chilling look, Enansal asked, knowing the answer, knowing the shem templar killed her father: "Did Papa fall down?"

The sister lowered her face. "Yes, child. Yes, he did."

There were no Chantry bells for her father, the raining day the Hahren presided over his funeral. The whole Alienage came but only he and Enansal patted down the roots of the sycamore that would mark his grave.

Wordlessly, the Hahren gave Enansal her father's letter, dictated to Tranquil scribe years before, in the event of her father's death:

_**Enansal, emm'asha,**_

_**My Keeper foretold that you would have the old gift of magic. She told me to watch for signs and I've see them all in you. When we came here, I told the Hahren and he informed me that there was no Keeper to whom I could apprentice you. And, if I didn't want you taken away to the shemlin 'Circle', that I should never tell anyone. Not even you. I hate keeping it from you but I want to keep you safe.**_

_**I would have you be Keeper of this 'Alienage' someday. They do not know what they have lost. Make them remember. And make the shemlin that did this to them, to me, to your mamae...make them all pay. After you have done so, deliver your lost brethren to the Elvhen.**_

_**All blessings of the Creators on you, Da'len. Ma'arlath.**_

_**Vir Assan. Vir Bor'Assan. Vir Adahlen. We are the last of the elvhenan, and never again shall we submit!**_

_**Papa**_

-3-

Enansal dropped her bag by the bunk bed that was now hers and sighed. She felt burdened still, totally lost, and alone.

"Hey Pointy, nice ears," said a snickering girl from the top bunk behind her. The girl jumped down and crossed her arms, saying, "Who said you could sleep in here?"

"The- the sister," Enansal replied, confused by the other girl's reasonless hostility.

She scoffed, flicked Enansal's ear as she passed, and threatened her to clear out by the time she got back. Eyes welling up from the pain and the rejection, Enansal bent to pick up her things when Alarith touched her shoulder. She startled, some electricity escaping her palms. He narrowed his eyes skeptically but convinced himself it was only static in the cold, dry air of the orphanage.

"Don't listen to her," said Alarith, "She was a bratty only-child before coming here."

Hoping to not be rejected again, Enansal said, "I- I was an only-child."

Backpeddling, he said, "Yeah, but...I mean...not all only-children are brats. Just dumb ones like her. Thinks she's better than everyone because 'she's going to come into a lot of money' once she's 18. I say, if shems are involved, the money's already spent."

She made a small smile and said, "Ma serannas."

"Sorry, what was that?"

Just then, the bratty girl turned the corner and saw Alarith. "Ooo, I'm telling!" she said. Alarith grabbed her wrist.

Through his teeth he said, "Listen, you little bitch, her dad _just_ died. It wouldn't kill you to cut her a break."

She was taken back a little but rolled her eyes, said "fine" unconvincingly, then bolted. Over her shoulder she called, "I'm telling the proctor you were in a girl's dorm!"

He scoffed. She apparently didn't know that **he** was the proctor's personal lyrium supplier. To Enansal, he said, "Right, anyway. ...Sorry about that. I'm Alarith. What's your name?"

"Enansal."

"...You Dalish?"

"Mostly, I guess. We've...I've been without a clan for most of my life."

Again skeptical, he narrowed his eyes and said, "You a snob?"

"A what?"

"A snob. Do you think you're better than everyone because you're Dalish?"

Enansal tilted her head and shook it. Then she paused and said, "I don't think we elves should be like shemlin though. ...Does that make me an elf snab, uh, snob?"

He smiled wryly and said, "Nah. ...So, can I show you around the place?"

A strange calm filled her mind. She'd never had a falon before. ...Ghilan'nain must have heard her prayer.

-4-

_Years later._

Lest she be accused of being a 'snob', she didn't let on that she could read. She would finish the Canticles long before the Chantry sister had stopped lecturing. In truth, teaching the elves how to read was not the goal; hearing the Chant of Light was enough and that was the sister's objective.

So the sister was very surprised when Enansal asked about the Canticle of Shartan. "That, um, that wasn't a part of the text for this lecture, Enansal. Did you..._read_...ahead in the appendix?"

Enansal was annoyed at her deflection but she knew any lecture on Shartan the sister had would only make her angry. So, she stated, simply, "Yes," and looked out the window. And rolled her eyes at herself. It was only a matter of time before word would get out and, her one falon, Alarith, would declare her a snob and dump her. But, she figured, it was only a matter of time anyway. Abandonment was just a part of life.

That afternoon, Alarith cornered her in the main alleyway of the Alienage. "You can read?" he exclaimed, enthusiastically. She furrowed her brows; it was not the tone she expected ostracization to sound like. Enansal was even more surprised by his next question: "Can you teach me?"

"What?"

"You heard me. ...I'll help you will your math homework in exchange, if that sweetens the deal." Alarith licked his lips and looked her up and down; Enansal did not understand that he was also flirting with her.

"Okay," she replied, apathetically. Math was her least favorite subject. In fact, she felt behooved on more than one occasion to tell Alarith that he was a math-snob, but always thought better of it.

Alarith ventured, "So...common room? After supper?"

"Sounds good. See you then." She sauntered through the orphanage's door to drop off her books and he watched her go. He internally congratulated himself for being so smooth then turned to make his delivery to the proctor at the Chantry.

-5-

Returning from her job as a courier, Enansal retrieved her book bag from her room and headed to the mess hall. When he saw her, Alarith broke free of those clustered around him. Iona furrowed her brows as she watched Alarith follow Enansal to a table by themselves.

"So what do you want to do first?" he asked.

"Get food, I'd think."

"Oh, right, hold on," he said, then whistled. A younger boy immediately came over, and asked, "What do you need-" then when he saw Enansal, he closed his mouth before saying, "delivered?"

"Get me and my lady friend here some supper," Alarith said, sliding him some coppers. Enansal thought, "_Lady friend? Is there any confusion that I'm a girl that he has to specify?_" Alarith missed her annoyed look.

As the boy turned to do as instructed, Alarith stopped him, saying in a low voice, "And about the other thing...'Ser Wilhem. In pain.' Got it?"

The boy nodded and again turned to get their food. When he returned with it, Alarith was explaining the FOIL method to an utterly confused Enansal.

"This is shemlin nonsense. Math with letters. Ridiculous!" muttered Enansal.

"'Ser Wilhem. In pain.' Right?" the boy whispered to Alarith, interrupting her thoughts. Alarith didn't answer the boy verbally but instead nodded at Enansal's book. The boy wandered to his own place in the mess hall, sat for a moment, then left with a bulging coat he hadn't had when he came it.

"What was that all about?" asked Enansal.

Ignoring her, he said, "Okay look, FOIL stands for First, Outer, Inner, Last." He hovered his finger over the symbols in a bouncing pattern she failed to follow. There was no way she could memorize the sequence before her verbal test the next morning. She's been in the Chantry's school three of the six years it had been since she came to the Alienage. They still hadn't taught them how to write. She gave up hoping that they would.

"No," she said, huffed a bit of hair from her field of vision.

"Tell you what, let's take a break from that and do my reading lesson."

She shrugged, switched books, and started at the appendix. It had pictures of herbs, their names, and various properties.

Alarith eyes widened. He knew the herbs...! When he was with the Dalish, the Keeper insisted that all of the children learned to recognize them. He was pretty good at it. ...But that didn't stop the other kids (or their parents) from calling him 'flat-ear'.

He pushed the memory aside and asked, "Can- can I buy this from you?" His mouth was watering at the possibilities this would open for him "extracurricular-ly".

"Buy it? I thought you didn't know how to read." she asked, skeptically.

"I don't know the words but I know the pictures," he explained.

Enansal considered then said, "How about I made you a copy?"

"You can write?" he exclaimed. The whole mess hall looked at them.

Enansal blushed. Alarith threw a sign most of them understood to mean, "It's cool". ...Iona scowled.

"No, I don't know how to write but-" Enansal said, rummaging through her bag, "I know a trick."

Alarith jumped back out of his chair, wide-eyed. Most of the 'tricks' he knew involved Tevinter blood magic.

With spare parchment and graphite stone in hand, she looked at him confused. "Did I say something wrong?" she asked.

He slowly shook his head and sat back down, hesitantly.

She raised her brow, said, "Watch," and made a copy of the elfroot page. He was mesmerized as his copy formed before his eyes.

"How much?" he said, holding it in his hands like it was a sovereign.

She thought for a moment then slowly suggested, "...Help me memorized the answer to my math test? You can have the page and I'll help you with the words."

He looked at her in disbelief. "Are you serious? ...Do you know how much that book is probably worth?"

Enansal shrugged, and said, teasingly, "Probably a bit less every time you help me with my math homework."

She smiled broadly at him and laugh. He'd never seen her genuinely smile before, never mind _laugh_. And something deep, deep within him decided that he was going to marry her. And he'd give her cause to smile or laugh everyday.

All he needed was a lot of money and a bit of time...

...Iona was not pleased.

* * *

**Next Chapter(s?) Preview** (because I've got more RL stuff coming down the pike but I don't want to leave you hanging):

-Kallian backstory, especially her conflicted feelings when it comes to mages

-Zevran positively influencing her political decisions

-Other stuff ;) and hopefully some smut *geez*

-Justice's fate


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

* * *

**Notes**: Misjudged my availability over the holiday. ;) For this chapter, I skipped travel and most of the combat to get on with the story. Sorry it is seems rushed... Some lemon fluff at the end. Doesn't really match the tone of the rest of the chapter but, I figure, they've waited long enough.

* * *

-1-

Woolsey called to Kallian and Zevran as they were leaving the Keep's main hall. "Warden Commander," she said, "I know you are eager to find out why the darkspawn aren't going to ground. But I _urge_ you to attend to matters in the Wending Wood. Trade **must** flow and the Banns will not take kindly to the wealth dwindling further."

Kallian sighed impatiently, then said, "Look, I'm going to Amaranthine to get leads on Kristoff. If those leads take me through the Wending Wood, so be it. But I promise nothing." She nearly called Woolsey "shem" out of habit but closed her mouth just in time.

Leaving the Keep, a Private cornered her. "Warden Commander?" she said. "_Getting real tired of people calling me that..._" thought Kallian, fiercely.

"Warden Commander, there's a man in the holding cell we found sulking around the Keep before the attack. Took four men to detain him. We guards have joked that you should consider making him a Warden, heh. Anyway, it falls to you on what to do with him, ser."

Kallian did not care for her appointment as Arlessa; the constant interruptions were grating her nerves. "Fine," she said and turned on her heel for the holding cells.

The Private's confidence shrunk at the informal dismissal. Zevran didn't bother reassuring the Private that she hadn't done anything wrong and followed after Kallian. "_A little fear from those one commands is a good thing_," he reasoned.

-2-

Zevran lead Kallian by the elbow from the prisoner's cell. He said, in low tones, "These were the Howe lands, were they not?"

She nodded, failing to see Zevran's point. She thought, "_If this lordling wants to bring the fight to me, he'll have it and **lose**!_" Zevran continued, "Killing the heir of the previous Arl does not seem...strategic."

"**What?**" she said loudly, not caring if Nathaniel heard her. Zevran patiently said, "As Arlessa, you'll need the fealty of the Banns; sparing him would look...favorably...on you."

In a harsh whisper, she replied, "What, so that **prig** can knife me in the back at the first opportunity?"

"Hm...let him try," said Zevran, with a dangerous smugness, looking over his shoulder at the slouching Nathaniel. It reminded Kallian of when he had killed the elven blood mage, Zathrian. It was simultaneously chilling and...reassuring.

-3-

"Well," Kallian said, looking at Kristoff's wall map, "I don't know how to swim. So, I guess we'll be going to the Blackmarsh by way of the Wending Wood after all." She looked over her shoulder to Zevran, crossed to him, and said with a smirk, "Woosley will be **thrilled**."

"My dear, I would love to teach you to swim sometime...when we can enjoy it." Zevran waggled his brows, took her hand, kissed the inside of her wrist, and then her brow.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes.

She whispered, "Come on, Zev, not now. We have to find out what kind of mess-" she nearly said 'Al and I made' but changed her word choice to, "we all are in."

Zevran deflated. Despite what she said in the Keep about Morrigan's ritual with Alistair, Zevran still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something still going on between Kallian and the King.

But then she looked him in the eyes and kissed him. She said, with a small smile, "Let's go." To Zevran, all was (basically) right in the world again.

-4-

Kallian attempted to reason with her. "Look, I get it. Shems are the first I'd suspect too. But I'm telling you, **the darkspawn are fucking with you.**"

"You are _**LYING**_!" flared Velanna, Kallian barely dodging the fireball she threw at her.

"Damn it, **listen**! Darkspawn can talk now, okay? Zevran and I both have hear it."

"I don't believe you!" Another fireball.

Annoyed, Kallian called, "If they can talk, why can't they also fuck with you? There's a pit **full** of shem remains down there in the valley so, _unless you did it_, someone **had** to have. And you've been killing everyone else, so...there you are."

A readied fireball swirled in Velanna's hands. With a sneer, she extinguished it. Then, remorse painting her face, "...I- I don't want to kill one of my kind. ...What do you propose I do?"

Thinking, "_I'm going to regret this_," she said, "Are you...a blood mage, host to a spirit...anything like that?"

Offended, Velanna replied, "No! That's shemlen magic," then she scoffed, "obviously."

Kallian raise her brow, said "Good," and, with a 'say nothing' look to Zevran, allowed her to keep believing that.

She continued, "Come with us, then. The darkspawn will likely be underground and we'll probably find your sister there."

Velanna considered for a moment then said, "Down the hill here. There's an entrance to an old silverite mine."

"Alright. ...Aim the fireballs at the **darkspawn** from now on, okay?"

With a sadistic smile, Velanna said, "No problem."

For some reason he didn't understand, Nathaniel was attracted to Velanna's...intensity.

-5-

_During the Blight._

The templar rocked back and forth in his stupor, a strange barrier surrounding him. The barrier added the odor of ozone to the pulsating rot of blood, death, and lyrium they'd thus far been fighting through. Alistair said, pity in his voice, "His hatred of mages is so intense...the memory of his friends' deaths are still fresh in his mind."

Cullen, the tortured templar behind the barrier, whispered in reply, "You have to end it **now**, before it's too late."

Before coming to the Circle Tower, Kallian empathized with the mages to an extent. She too was regulated to a certain social strata because of something she was.

That identification, however, hung by a thread now. Cullen was right; the mages had been surrounded by evil forces, snaking wicked fingers into their thoughts and corrupting their minds.

...But Wynne had been there; she wasn't an abomination...

Her thoughts were interrupted by a meaty growth on the floor bursting pus and a foul stench into the air. Recovering from a cough-and-gag fit, Kallian replied to Cullen, "I want to save everyone that can be saved." Wynne sighed her relief and touched Kallian's shoulder in appreciation. Kallian stiffened at the contact but acknowledged Wynne with a nod.

"Everyone have the Litany memorized?" asked Kallian, but mostly to Wynne. When they all responded affirmatively, she said, "Alright then, let's get this over with."

Kallian looked at Cullen once more, his armor briefly reminding her of the guards who kidnapped her, Shianni, and the other women, so long ago. She wondered if this Cullen ever raped anyone... With her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, she called, "Let's see what we're dealing with here," and opened the door to the Harrowing Chamber.

-6-

Kristoff's body was..._moving_. And..._**talking**_.

And just punted a darkspawn slug toward her!

Zevran stabbed it in mid-air and hurled it at the revenant as a distraction. But he was too late; the creature yanked Velanna forward itself. Daggers out, Nathaniel tried to do something...but its magic made him feel...so...weak...

Kallian sneered and riposted a desire demon. It wailed and fell but another one was there to take its place. Zevran with his bow dispatched the revenant that held Velanna and Nathaniel and turned to fire shots at the remaining desire demon. Justice in Kristoff's body was far ahead of them, dealing with the "Baroness".

When they finally caught up with him, there was a thunderous collaspe and Justice thrust the blade into the monster's neck.

...And now...what to do this 'spirit'?

His rot reminded Kallian of the Circle Tower...but he didn't _seem_ evil...

"These darkspawn killed Kristoff. I would avenge him by helping the Grey Wardens, if you will have me. What say you?"

Wynne was an abomination, it turned out. But it was actually a helpful spirit. Still, she didn't trust Wynne or her "passenger". Even more so, Kallian didn't want to risk this Justice body-hopping into anyone. Especially since he seemed to get riled so easily.

If Nathaniel got possessed, he might yet attempt to assassinate her. A possessed Zevran might tear through the ranks of the Crows in Antiva. And Velanna...she would probably burn the whole country down.

"No, Justice. We've got this. ...You freed those people from the Baroness; I'd say that's enough." Then, glancing at Velanna (the most likely candidate), she added, "But if you cross our path again, I'll know you to be a demon. And I will have no mercy."

"I see," said Justice, dejected, "May your travels lead to just ends." And with that, he departed.

They all watched him for a while. Then Kallian said, "Let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps."

-7-

Anders shivered but didn't dare light a fire. He wasn't able to kill all of his templar captors and the remaining ones surely were looking him. If his phylactery wasn't in Amaranthine, he would have headed north, boarded a ship, and be on his way to Kirkwall by now.

But no, _idiot_ Uldred had to use _blood magic_ to start his rebellion. And in response the Chantry had all phylacteries moved. It had taken him forever to find out where they'd been moved to and now _that_ was the one place he'd dare not go.

He sighed and watched the moonlight play off the frothy shoreline. "_Is that a templar?_" he thought, seeing a figure walking along the beach. Slowly reaching for his 'walking stick', he tried to shrink into the shadows.

The figure, apparently seeing him, called to him. Anders didn't move. "_Fire or ice...lightening?_," he debated with himself as it drew ever closed.

When it was finally in range, Anders rubbed his eyes; was he really seeing this? Anders decided it was definitely time to run but the...thing...caught up with him.

"Are you a mage, mortal?" asked the man.

Wide-eyed, Anders slowly turned and saw the walking, talking corpse-like man looking at him with seemingly dead, unblinking eyes. "Are you...looking for a healer?" asked Anders, nervously joking.

Justice paused to consider. He thought, "_It's worth a try, I suppose_," and nodded.

The man before Anders looked and smelled horrible. It wasn't the taint but might as well have been. Anders didn't really think there was anything anyone could do for him. But he, effectively, offered to help and this poor man clearly needed it. So he lead the man into a nearby cave.

"This might tickle," said Anders, trying to make light of the situation. Justice did not laugh but said, "This is very...merciful...of you, mage. You have my thanks, regardless of the outcome."

Oddly touched by the sentiment, Anders said, "You're welcome...uh...what's your name?"

"I am called Justice."

"Ah. Well. Alright then...Justice. Here we go."

As Anders cast, he felt the mana drain quickly from him as though he was being slurped up through a straw. Justice's body healed little but his...essence?...seemed to glow through his skin.

Justice said, "You poor man! The templars, everyone...they...they are not **just**! What terrible, **terrible** things they have done to you! To **all mages**!"

Anders swayed and collapsed with fatigue. Justice quickly knelt beside him and said, "Mage, you...you are...dying. I will not see your kindness repaid so. May I...join you? Perhaps together, we can do what you cannot do alone. Perhaps we could free all mages from this oppression. ...What say you?"

Delirious, Anders nodded. And, with that, Kristoff's body fell on top of him.

...Them.

-8-

_Months later._

"Yes, Velanna, you have to keep watch with Nate."

"**But-**"

"No buts! I haven't...been...with Zevran for...for **ages** now!"

Velanna huffed her disapproval, crossed her arms, and looked away. Then she said, "Well, try to keep the _noise_ now. I don't like how Nathaniel looks at me when you too are bond-...'being with'...eachother."

"_Liar_," Kallian thought with a smirk, but she said, "Thank you," and turned to go.

Velanna called, "You mean 'Ma serannas', Flat-ear!"

"Shut up, Pointy!" Kallian yelled back, smiling. Velanna smiled just a little before reaching for her ears to check. She thought, "_They aren't **that**-_" when Nathaniel surprised her by breathing, "Hello, my lady," in her ear from behind her.

"**Nathaniel!**" she screeched.

Down the path from them, Kallian chuckled. She didn't approve of the lordling and the elf-snob at first but she wasn't about to be hypocritical. After all, her first love was a shem.

And to be honest, she really didn't approve of it now. ...Maybe they would last, maybe they wouldn't.

Either way, for the present, their bickering _thankfully_ mellowed both of them out. And gave her and Zevran more time together.

"Ready for your swimming lesson, my love?" asked Zevran, naked and treading water.

She smiled mischievously, pulled her tunic over her head, finished undressing, and stepped in. "Does the 'back stroke' include rubbing my shoulders?" she asked, hopeful.

"No... But that doesn't mean I won't."

She grinned, pulled him back to shore a bit so they could both touch bottom, then turned her back to him. "That would be awesome."

"Ridiculously awesome?" he asked in her ear with a smile, kneading deeply into one shoulder with one hand and steadying them by holding onto her vaginal mound with the other. As her head lolled back onto his shoulder, she groaned an affirmative.

He switched the positioning of his hands to get her other shoulder. But, this time, he added massaged her clit as well.

She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck, the moonlight deepened the dimples of her smile. Her kiss caused him to lose balance and they fell back slightly into the water.

Pulling them back to shore, Zevran entered her easily. Holding onto her hips, he encouraged her to draw him deeper. As she tentatively did so, her eyes rolled back into her head and she let out a wanton moan. After that, she needed no more encouragement. The tickling, foamy waves never interrupted her pace.

Back in camp, Velanna squirmed at the sound of Kallian's orgasmic cries...to Nathaniel's scheming amusement.

"Perhaps...we could...patrol the perimeter?" he offered. Velanna shot up to do so on her own but Nathaniel grabbed her hand.

"A lady should _always_ have an escort," he said, smoothly. Velanna rolled her eyes, immensely annoyed at herself that she liked his attention.

And wanted more of it.

...And a certain _variety_ of it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

* * *

**Notes**: Many apologies for the delay and thanks for your patience. RL stuff was followed by research / some replay. This one is plotty but there should be some porn in the next chapter.

* * *

-1-

Alarith let Amethyne stay in a small room behind his shop as his 'security system'. If the authorities came, her job was to "play orphan" and misinform them of his whereabouts. Then they could meet at his apartment and both skip town.

As he counted down the register beyond her closed door, Amethyne watched the rain weave patterns down the window pane and sighed. She missed Bevin. Concerned for his sister's safe passage to and from Redcliffe, he often joined Kaitlyn when she went to visit her fiancé, Teagan. But Bevin didn't join Kaitlyn this time. This time, he left with Wade and Herren for Vigil's Keep to help outfit Ser Tabris' forces.

"_Ser Tabris. Commander of the Grey. ...My former babysitter_," she thought.

Amethyne chuckled slightly, despite her mood. She was very proud of Kallian; it was surreal that she knew a living, breathing, _elven_ hero. A hero whose adventure put her boyfriend in the line of danger. She sighed again, her melancholy reasserting itself.

To combat it, she crossed the room to her candlelit nightstand and fished for the box of Bevin's letters that she hid there. Enansal, another of her babysitters while her mother was "away", taught her how to read. But, since no one knew how to _write_, Amethyne's letters back to him consisted only of kiss marks and a couple words she hoped meant what she wanted to say. He promised to teach her once he returned from the Keep.

"_If he returns_," she thought with a grimace. She shook the thought to its spot in the back of her mind. Then she reached for his oldest letter to her, the day he left with Kaitlyn for Redcliffe the first time:

_**Amethyne,**_

_**I'm so glad I met you. I remember the day you came into the smithy, determined to lift that ridiculously heavy Dragonbone Plate armor set Wade made for Ser Tabris. Herren knew I wanted to thank her and he let me go with you to deliver the message that her order was complete.**_

_**But we never did deliver it in person, did we? Instead we slipped the note under the door and walked around town until past your curfew, catching lightening bugs that strayed too close. ...I hated claiming that you were my sister's servant and I was escorting you to the Alienage. But I didn't want you to get into trouble because, if you did, I didn't know if I would be able to see you again.**_

_**I didn't care that your neighbors were looking at us funny. I was happy and you seemed so too. And, there beneath the lantern light, that was the first time you took your braids out. I didn't have words then but this is what I thought: you are the prettiest girl I've ever seen.**_

_**But we just met. I didn't know what you thought. Until you hugged me goodnight...and kissed me on the cheek. I think I floated back to Herren's shop.**_

_**I'll have to live on these memories until I see you next. I pray to Andraste that we don't come across any darkspawn. But, if we do, I'll give them a fight. I want to see you again.**_

_**Yours,**_  
_**Bevin**_

Unconsciously, Amethyne was fiddling with her hair. When she realized what she was doing, an idea slowly bloomed in her mind. She got up from the floor and rummaged through the little desk for some twine and a letter opener. Then she moved to the mirror above the water basin, tightly tied off a section of hair near her neck's base, braided it, and cut it off just above the twine. Finally, she crossed back to the desk, attempted to write "Vijils Keyp - Blac Smith Aprentis Bevin" on the envelope, dropped the braid inside (with a kiss mark on the inner flap), and sealed it with some wax from the candle.

Pleased with herself, she set it on her nightstand. "_Maybe one of Bann Shianni's runners will deliver it with the Warden Commander's packages_," she thought, mentally rearranging her route so she could talk to Shianni first thing. As she laid her head down on the pillow and blew out the candle, she realized she'd have to wear her hair in an Orlesian braid. Her usual pig tales would expose the chunk she just cut off.

"_Hmm, didn't think this through too well_," she thought.

-2-

Alarith clinked some of the coins from the day's take. He had finished counting down the register but didn't want to leave yet, just in case. Alarith knew that the authorities would (probably) never come; he had too many interested parties invested in his business. The most powerful of which was the old Orphanage proctor and his elusive associate, "K".

Even though there "wasn't budget" to run the orphanage anymore, the former proctor had a lot of pull amongst the Templars. Alarith wasn't privy to who "K" had pull with but he suspected it was with the Chantry, mages, and dwarves with all the winking and nodding they seemed to do these days. You could wind a clock by the Tranquil Proprietor's schedule and even he made a point to stop and nod at the dwarf, Gorim, in the market square. After a week of that, Gorim taught him the art of subtlety...with some success.

Crossing to the window, Alarith chuckled at the memory of the dwarf coaching the taller man as Gorim had him stand on his knees to get at eye-level. Alarith peeked out the window; it didn't seem like anyone was about. Then he saw the mannequin that was once clothed with the robes Enansal now owned.

He let out a heavy sigh. He often thought about going and finding her but business never seemed to allow him an opportunity. Nevermind that he had no idea where she'd be. She bought his only map and he had forgotten to make a copy of it.

Fantasizing, he thought, "_Maybe one of my suppliers knows where an Eluvian is...I could scry her..._" then, frustrated he yelled, "**Andraste's tits and ass!**" Amethyne, in the other room, groggily turned over on her side and shortly went back to sleep.

To blow off some steam, he turned to the cabinet Enansal fussed at him about and tried to organize it a little better. It only made him more frustrated so he left it half done, closed up shop, and trudged through the mud.

Memories came in torrents like the rain on his skin.

-3-

_Years before._

Rained poured down the cave entrance. Everyone sat around the fire, bursting into giggle fits whenever someone bounced the copper off the cave floor into in the glass. When Iona landed the copper, she always picked Alarith to take a pull of alcohol. So she was more than disappointed when, even with lowered inhibitions, he quit the game to go smoke elfroot with Enansal near the cave's entrance.

While he was using her blunt to light his own, lightening cracked across the stormy sky and thunder rippled after it. She ventured, "Wouldn't knowing magic be cool?"

He took a puff and handed her blunt back to her. "As long as it isn't blood magic," he said, lifting up his shirt to expose the scars along his rubs and back. With wide eyes, Enansal was about to express her horror when Iona flirtatiously called, "Alarith, I thought you weren't playing anymore!" All the girls but Enansal giggled and made sidelong glances amongst themselves. Liquid courage was certainly making Iona more bold.

_Still years before, a few days after the party._

"Elfroot is medicinal," said Alarith.

"Yeah, well, that's fine and good. I like it too. But what is _lyrium_?" responded Enansal, trying not to scold.

He hesitated then replied, "Medicinal-ish."

She failed at holding back the scold now: "Alarith, _owning a business_ is bad enough, but **your** line of business? Are you trying to get thrown in jail? ...Or worse?"

_Elsewhere, same day._

An elven boy with a bulging coat, one of Alarith's runners, meandered down the alleyway toward the Wonders of Thedas. He popped in there for a moment, to throw off anyone who might have been tailing him, then continued to the hideout door.

He tapped twice on the door, said, "But I'm dying Ser Wilhem," then tapped once more. The door opened slightly, a voice said, "Ser Wilhem. In pain," and handed the boy a painted box.

The boy smiled slightly, nodded at the faceless voice, put the box on his stomach, and quickly tied up the front. Now he looked like a cold little lad with a small pot belly. From one of his pockets, he produced a hat and put it on; while wearing it, he could have been a human for all the marketplace goers knew.

He turned and scurried back the Chantry for school after the lunch hour. Sister Theohild greeted him enthusiastically and deftly slipped him three sovereigns.

"Help me with my coat, Sister? I can't ever get these silly ties."

"Certainly, young man," she said with a knowing nod. The painted box containing the proctor's lyrium was now hers to hand off...and to get a cut from.

_Also years before, months after the party._

The whole orphanage apathetically waved Enansal goodbye out of politeness. Well, except Alarith. It was partly because Iona was holding on to his arm so tightly (while making a production of bidding Enansal farewell).

The another reason was that he was confused about how he felt. "_Who adopts a 15-year old?_" he thought. He hoped the nice-seeming woman wasn't actually a madame...or worse, a blood mage.

If she was a madame, the sexually prude Enansal was in for a shock; Alarith smirked ruefully at his numerous failed attempts to even kiss her. If she was a blood mage, well, he hoped Enansal would have the sense to set her on fire and run.

He'd learned long ago that not all mages were bad. The Andrastian who helped his family escape wasn't a blood mage. Neither was the Keeper when he was with the Dalish. And Enansal wasn't; smoking elfroot with him was probably the worst thing she'd ever done. Still he didn't take it well when she showed him. Trouble finds mages and, in his line of work, that wasn't anything he needed. ...Or so he told himself.

As Enansal's happy gaze met his, he tried to smile but he could only nod, then wiped "the specks of dust" from his eyes. The woman's kindness was her ticket out of the Alienage...and away from him.

-4-

_Present day._

Dripping wet, Alarith stripped out of his soaked clothing and put them on the stove to dry. He light the fire and warmed himself as best he could before resolving to warm himself with whiskey.

It did help somewhat and, after a fair few of drinks, he was dozing off into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, he lied to himself, determined to believe "the storm" was what disturbed his sleep.

* * *

**Next chapter(s) preview**:  
-Zevran and Nate bromance (non-slash)  
-Velanna gets embarrassed by old clan mates  
-Amaranthine mucking about  
-Makeup sex :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: : / / dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

* * *

**Notes**: WOW, I'm so sorry for the delay...!

* * *

The cool, salty breeze reminded him of Wounded Coast. He was surprised to miss it there. Nathaniel fiddled with the old bronze sextant's knobs. Kallian had given it to him but, until then, they'd been too far inland for it to be useful.

As he eyed the far shore, he often fell behind the others that morning. Then they passed a surprisingly sea-worthy touring canoe. "_Looks like a 17-footer. ...That would hold us and all our gear_," thought the former sailor. Nathaniel pointed it out to Zevran and together the dislodged it from the Blackmarsh's muck.

The mud soiled Zevran's boots, to his mild annoyance. He too had been out on the water a time or two but didn't enjoy it as much as Nathaniel had.

"So, the plan is to row across to the shores of Amaranthine, yes?" asked the elf.

Nathaniel inhaled deeply with his eyes closed. As he opened them, Nathaniel cheerfully affirmed with a nod.

Zevran raised his brow and shook his head. He muttered, "Most of his time was spent _above _deck, surely," while flicking the shells of long dead mollusks from the canoe's interior.

"With the four of us paddling, I bet it would only take us an hour or so to cross," said Nathaniel, optimistically. He added, "I can steer from the back if you want to keep us going straight up front."

Zevran was oddly complimented by his teamwork; humans he'd sailed with previously would have never made that suggestion, sensible as it was. No, they would lounge in the front. The coxswain would call out when to stroke while he and the other elves grunted against the oars.

"Okay...but there's not enough oars for all of us to row. How can you be the coxswain and row at the same time? ..."

"Coxswain? ...Have you ever paddled a canoe?" asked Nathaniel, confused. He continued, "Unless they do it differently in Antiva, I've never heard of their being a coxswain aboard a canoe."

"What is _**that**_?" asked Velanna, with no attempt made to hide her distaste.

Before Nathaniel could respond with offense at her tone, Zevran replied, "It is called a 'canoe', my rustic cousin." He paused to point to the land opposite them, continuing, "And we will row across this channel with it."

"Row? Like farmers do their crops?"

"Why do you keep saying 'row', Zevran?" asked Nathaniel, trying to interject.

To Velanna, Zevran said, "...Not...no. Look, Nathaniel and I will finish inspecting the canoe. If it is indeed sea-worthy, we will show you what 'rowing' is, hm?"

"But we aren't rowing, we're paddling," said Nathaniel. Zevran muttered, "_Whatever_" and looked around for the clamps that would hold the 'oars' in place.

Nathaniel resumed looking for holes and other structural weaknesses while Velanna rolled her eyes, shrugged, and sat on a large stone. Kallian had given her the discarded journal of a fellow elf; it was fascinating.

"Kallian," Velanna called behind her to the tree line, "I don't know how to pronounce this word."

"Give me a second," she replied, lacing up her armor. Velanna didn't have nearly as many laces with her robes and Kallian was envious. Both had to pee for a while and all the back and forth of the water exacerbated their urgency. So Nathaniel finding the canoe was a welcome distraction.

Kallian returned as the men started packing the canoe. Zevran was still skeptical about this plan. He hadn't managed to find oar clamps. They were missing two oars. Nathaniel was (somehow) going to row and be the Coxswain at the same time. But, if it meant he could be back in a proper bed with Kallian sooner, he'd see how it would play out.

Velanna pointed to the word and Kallian sounded it out. "Ch-a-m cham b-er chamber p-ot." Finishing, she said, "Chamberpot."

"What is it?" asked Velanna.

"It's where nobles piss and shit because they are too important and lazy to go to the outhouse," replied Kallian with blasé resentment.

"Outhouse?"

"A building where everyone else pisses and shits into a hole in the ground."

Velanna blinked and shook her head, astonished at how city folk overcomplicated things.

"Huh. ...Well...ma serannas," said Velanna, then to herself, said, "_I guess_," and continued to read the old Amaranthian elf's journal. After a while though, she put it down; the anger she felt radiated through her palms and threaten to scorch the leather cover. Still, reading it helped her understand Kallian, Zevran, and her city kindred more. She didn't understand, though, why they would persist in that life when they could return to the Elvhen. Then, saddened by the memory of her deceased clanmates, she decided to walk along the beach.

Kallian called, "Want company?"

"No...I just-...," then looking over her shoulder, Velanna said, "processing."

Kallian nodded then watched her for a while as she entertained herself collecting seashells. "_What's eating her?_" Kallian wondered.

Nathaniel placed the last of the gear into the canoe only to see Zevran sitting in the canoe the wrong way with two paddles in hand. "_That's why he keeps saying 'rowing'..._" he realized, his spirit dampening a little bit. "_Kallian can't really swim, Velanna didn't know what a canoe was, and Zevran...apparently...doesn't know how to paddle a canoe. ...This trip might take longer than an hour after all._"

Kallian walked up, put some shells in one of her packs, and asked the men, "So how does this work?"

Zevran opened his mouth to respond but Nathaniel quickly responded, "Get Velanna and we'll show you." She turned and, in a low tone, Nathaniel said to Zevran, "Turn around and follow my lead."

Put off, he replied "Okaaay", handed him the paddles, and turned to face the Amaranthine shores.

When the women returned, Nathaniel patiently instructed all three of them, with Zevran as the model, on how to hold the paddle, do the forward stroke, and when to switch sides. He didn't bother teaching them the j-stroke and showing them the draw-stroke at this point was a laughable idea. "If things go decently, maybe Zevran and I can go fishing and I'll teach him then," he decided.

After helping the women in, Nathaniel waded to the front and asked Zevran, "You ready?"

He nodded, appreciating that Nathaniel saved him from looking like an idiot. He clapped Zevran on the back, cheerfully said, "Alright, let's do this!", and hopped in the back.

Sitting in the front, Zevran had full view of the shoreline. It was a sunny day with gulls taunting each other overhead and glittering water before them. Zevran inhaled the salty breeze deeply with his eyes closed. When he opened them, he smiled and decided to thank Nathaniel. This was something he could get used to.

Velanna, however, quickly grew tired. Exhausted, she took a swig of lyrium. Then she got an idea. Downing the rest of it, she said, "This is asinine! I'll get us across. Oars in!"

"_Paddles_," thought Nathaniel with resigned sigh. Velanna rocked the bow a little as she stood up. "What are you doing?" cried Kallian and Nathaniel in unison.

Silently rebuffing them, she cast a couple of her Keeper spells...toward the water. Suddenly there noises beneath them and the Amaranthine shoreline was approaching at a much more rapid pace.

Wind whipping his hair about, Nathaniel was impressed by the speed (and didn't mind the view of Velanna's rear) until his nose smarted with a scratch. "_What was-_"

Then he saw another thornblade root nick Kallian's hand as she held on to the side of the canoe. "_Oh __**Maker**_," he thought, afraid of what they were doing to the canoe's hull. He reached in front of him and pulled her hips toward him, interrupting her casting.

Velanna huffed, "Nathan-...why am I sitting in water?"

He looked down and felt the color drain from him. He barked, "**Everyone paddle ****_now_****!**"

Zevran piped up, "Wait," and turned to dig in his pack.

"**Zevran**! We are taking on water! I need you to-"

He unfurled his bedroll and shouted, "Velanna, freeze the water at our feet and cast a Blizzard at the bedroll!"

"I don't know any ice spells!"

"There the opposite of fire spells!" cried Kallian, surprised to have picked that up from Wynne and Morrigan's bickering.

Flustered, Velanna's shaking hands singed the side of the canoe as she scrambled up. "Opposite, _opposite_!" she scolded herself. Forcing herself to calm despite the water splashing at her feet, she said, "Feet up, everyone!" and winced as she cast.

But she did it!

Relief washed over her...until she mentally got to her feet. "I f- fr- roze my f- feet!" she exclaimed.

Kallian, trying to be level-headed, said, "V, we're almost to shore. Just a few blizzard puffs and you can **torch **this damn thing!"

Teeth chattering, she cast a light icy breeze at Zevran's bedroll. With the tiny holes in the canoe's hull plugged with ice, they glided well through the water's surface.

Zevran and Kallian, who were holding the bedroll, shivered and tried to brush frost from their skin when they could. Zevran said, "You're doing great, Velanna, my friend. Just a couple more."

She tried again but was shaking too much. "Give her some more lyrium!" Nathaniel called.

Zevran leaned to get some and, nearly falling in the water, tossed it a bit too far out of Velanna's reach. To everyone's relief, Nathaniel plucked it from the air before it plunged into the sea.

Velanna gratefully drank the whole draft. Her second Blizzard cast was more forceful than the first and it split a hole into Zevran's bedroll. Everyone was crestfallen at the sound of the ripping until the felt a thud beneath them. They all were terrified something worse had happened.

Kallian and Zevran both slowly, mournfully, lowered the ripped bedroll but then realized the source of the noise.

"**LAND**!"

They hit a sandbar just 30 yards offshore. Whooping and shouting, the men hopped out and tugged the canoe to shore. Once they were on solid ground, Velanna wasted no time in melting the ice in which her feet were encased. Sitting down on the warm sand, she rubbed her cold feet and thought with a sigh, "_Shoes_..."

Meanwhile, the others unpacked. Once they were done, Kallian called to Velanna, "Hey, V, I've got some firewood for you if you're still cold," referencing the canoe and paddles. She smirked and replied, "Stand back." Her fireball burnt the thing to embers in short order.

Nathaniel, conflicted about the vessel's send off, said, "Well...we saved three weeks journey at least." His elven companions all whipped their heads toward him. Kallian spoke what they all thought: "True...but too soon, Nate."

He looked at the ground, feeling criticized for the time-saving idea that nearly got them all killed, when he remembered, "_Velanna's thornblades!_"

Nathaniel spat, "It would have been fine if _Velanna _hadn't-"

"Hadn't what?" said a voice and Velanna in unison. Velanna and the others shot their heads around, looking for the hidden stranger who spoke.

"Well, well, Velanna," said the voice smoothly from the inside of a nearby cave, walking into the light. "Keeper of a clan again? ...And of a human! My, my."

Marren, a hunter from her former clan, finished the fruit he was eating and discarded the core in Velanna's direction.

"I see your decision-making skills haven't improved," said Marren, with condensing sneer.

"Marren! I-"

"Spare me, Velanna. There's nothing I'll hear from you," he interrupted. Dejected, Velanna studied the ground. Marren scoffed, turned to leave, and called over his shoulder, "We Dalish train our arrows on shemlin and flat-ears alike, Velanna. ...Best stay well away from our fires, Halam'sa."

When he got to the grassy undergrowth, he ceremoniously shook the sand from his feet, spat on the sand, and then faded into the trees with an icy glare at Velanna.

She hugged her knees and said nothing while the others all wondered, "..._What was that all about?_"

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**More Notes**:  
"Halam'sa" = "Finished One". It should, possibly, be "Sa'halam"; I'm making a contraction of words I know but I don't know in what order they should be. If you do, please let me know in the comments.

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**Next chapter(s) preview**:  
-Amaranthine mucking about  
-Makeup sex :)  
-Alistair "interviewing" potential queens-to-be


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: : / / dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

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**Notes**: If you don't understand section 1, please read the previous chapter. It has been a while... (Sorry...)

**Update**: Added more since this chapter was short.

**AU Warning**: We're going to meet Mischa _without_ Sigrun.

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-1-

Kallian crossed to Velanna and tapped her on the shoulder. Velanna lowered her face so it was hidden by her arms, that were hugging her knees. "You okay?" she asked the other elf woman.

Velanna sniffed and whispered, simply, "No," and Kallian glanced at the men, concerned. Zevran motioned for her to return to him. When she did, Nathaniel walked over with a blanket, despite Zevran's admonishment.

He wrapped the blanket around one side of Velanna, sat down next to her, and curled the rest of the blanket around her, paying particularly attention to her feet. Then he put his arm around her shoulders and, in response, she shifted so that she was sitting in his lap with her head tucked into his neck.

"My dear, perhaps we should retire elsewhere, hm?" Zevran asked Kallian. He gently steered her away down the beach, within sight of the gear (in case Marren was still around) but not of Nathaniel and Velanna.

Sympathizing for Velanna about her apparent estrangement from her clan, Kallian thought of her Alienage and all those people she'd known her entire life. Amethyne and all the other kids. Alarith, the somehow-operating-without-license grocer. His should-be wife, Enansal. ...Elder Valendrian. She thought, with a grimace, "_I hope he died before the slavers reached Tevinter with him..._" Her thoughts then turned to her own family. Her father, Cyrion, nearly a Tevinter slave himself. Shianni, the ball-busting Bann. Soris...his wife. At the last one, she winced. Thankful that Alistair taught her how to read and write, she decided to send Soris an apology letter as soon as they were back at the Keep.

"Zevran?"

"Hm?"

"Do you miss the Crows? I mean, were they at all like a family to you?"

With a conflicted expression, he thought for a moment then said, "I...prefer the family I have now."

"What do you mean?" she inquired, tilting her head.

He focused on her affectionately with a half-smile. Then, seeming to get a mischievous idea by his pleased expression, he said, "Velanna is like a brother to me."

-2-

_Days later._

"You're back! Have you any news from the Wending Wood?" asked Mervis, the Merchants' Guild senior assistant vice president of administration. Velanna's ears perked up but she didn't say anything.

Kallian returned, "I've dealt with your-" She glanced at the mage and continued, "problem. ...The killings should stop now." She stifled a snicker.

"Really? That's wonderful news! I hope the culprits have been brought to justice."

She smirked and thought, "You don't want her and Justice to meet again, trust me."

Zevran, however, piped up and said, "Would you like to say something, Velanna?"

She stiffly replied, "No. I- I would like to leave."

Kallian and Zevran laughed good-naturedly while Nathaniel crossed his arms and squinted at them in silent disapproval. When Mervis saw Velanna's characteristically Dalish tattoos (and her scowl), his countenance changed from professional pleasantness to unrehearsed fear. He stuttered, "Y- Your p- p- paym- m- ment," and dropped the coin purse in Kallian's waiting hand. Mervis, unnerved, departed from them quickly.

"Thanks a lot, Zevran," spat Velanna. She prepared to flick an ice crystal at his ear. But Kallian, with eyes wide, warned her, "**No, templars**" and tossed her the coin purse to prevent her from casting. Startling then she missing it, Velanna rolled her eyes, and bent to pick up the coin purse. Zevran, however, was quicker and retrieved it first. Grinning, he tossed it to Velanna. She missed it again but smiled at him when he let her get it that time. Nathaniel quietly raised an eyebrow as he glanced from Zevran, to Velanna, back to Zevran, and then Kallian. Jealousy pricked him but he couldn't put his finger on why.

Together they weaved through the crowd to Master Henley's so that Velanna could replenish her lyrium stash. "_Brazen to sell this on the street_," thought Kallian, "_but there seems to be one in about every town..._" She and Nathaniel were glancing around, making sure no one was too interested in Velanna's transaction.

"Delilah? Is that you?" asked Nathaniel to a woman making a purchase in the next stall over. Velanna's eyes looked her direction without moving her head.

"Nathaniel! Oh, I had feared the worst!" The woman and Nathaniel embraced; Velanna whipped her head toward them in confused alarm.

"Who is this, Nate?" asked Kallian, sensing Velanna's concern.

Velanna wasn't paying attention and overpaid. Zevran was, however, and lifted the overage (plus some) from the lyrium dealer's pocket.

"This is my sister, Delilah." Velanna visibly calmed, but then slowly became preoccupied again.

Master Henley, with a gruff voice, said, "Hate to break up the reunion but there are others in line, miss."

"Abelas."

"Gesundheit."

Zevran translated, "Ser, that wasn't a sneeze. It means 'Sorry', I believe."

"Right, fine," he said, then, looking over them, "Next in line, please."

Delilah and Nathaniel, arm in arm, loosely lead the rest of them out of the crowded marketplace. Once in a less populated area, Nathaniel turned and asked, "Warden Commander?"

Delilah's brow arced slightly, impressed that an _elf_was so titled.

"Come on, Nate, don't call me that," Kallian replied, pleasantly.

"Arlessa then?" he teased, bowing elaborately.

His sister's brow furrowed at this. Delilah thought, "_Rank within the Grey Wardens was one thing but to be a noble... Interesting..._"

"Get to the point, Nate. What do you want?" Kallian then thought, "_Besides to embarrass me in front of your sister..._"

"Well, since you asked," said Nathaniel, turning up the charm, "might I catch up with my sister?"

"Of course." Then, unconsciously, her expression darkened; she acknowledged and resented that his human presence in their party made going about the city around sundown easier. "_Damn standard time. I wish it were daylight saving time year 'round_," she mentally grumped, then said, "Where's the nearest inn?"

Nathaniel paused, trying to remember; it had been such a long time. Sensing his predicament, Delilah pleasantly interjected, "Brother, isn't The Crown and Lion near by? Up the stairs and along the thoroughfare on the left? Just shy of the Chantry, yes?"

Nodding slowly, he returned, "Yes...yes, that's right," then he laughed and said, "If you pass a statue that looks like my father in the Chantry courtyard, you've gone to far. I'll meet you there at the tavern in a bit." Delilah face fell but she didn't say anything. Kallian and Zevran noticed but Velanna was still distracted by her thoughts.

They waved their goodbyes and parted ways. Once they were out of earshot, Kallian asked, "Suppose Delilah thinks her brother is too good to muck about with a pack of elves?"

"Ah, well, I believe the term is 'clan' and, look," Zevran, amused with himself, gestured over his shoulder to the slow moving Velanna, "we even have a Keeper."

"I am not a Keeper!" yelled Velanna, with sudden, hot tears in her eyes. A few humans near by looked in their direction; Kallian couldn't hear the content of their murmuring but sundown generally meant trouble for elf-kind.

Kallian turned and stepped down a few steps to her then said, quietly, "V, it was a joke, okay? He didn't mean anything by it." She took Velanna by the arm and, to the group of humans, she said with an appeasing wave, "Our cousin doesn't like the match our Elder made for her. Sorry." Then, back to Velanna, making the mage walk faster, she scolded, "Look, you don't want to be out in any city after dark, especially being a Dalish, never mind being an apostate. We need to get to the tavern **now**. That group of humans over there will gladly take turns trying to cut off our ears if we don't get inside. Them we can handle, but not the whole city. And I can't protect you from the templars, even as Arlessa. Alright? ...Where the hell are we?"

In their haste to get away, they lost track of where they were. "You there, ser, is The Crown and Lion this way?" asked Zevran.

The elf woman nodded and pointed to her left. Kallian asked, "Thanks. ...Don't you need to get inside yourself?"

"No, I've got...an arrangement...with a certain branch of the authorities around here. Say, have you seen a human mage recently? Blond hair, brown eyes, thinks he's the Maker's gift to women...and men?"

Remembering the mage from the Keep, Kallian tentatively remarked, "Was- Is he a friend of yours?"

"He thinks we are," she said with a smirk, "Well, if you see anyone who looks like that, ask if their nickname is 'Anders'. Then tell him Namaya knows where 'it' is."

"We'll do that," said Zevran before Kallian could say anything and turned them in the correct direction.

"What-"

"If she'll turn in a friend, don't you think she'd do that or worse to a stranger?" said Zevran, referencing Velanna with his head.

"Would you both stop fussing over me!" said Velanna, resentfully.

"Once we are inside, gladly!" returned Kallian. Velanna seemed to shrink and Kallian fought to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "_The 'might of the Dalish' indeed_," she thought.

Finally reaching the inn, Zevran and Kallian exhaled in relief after crossing the threshold. "Three rooms?" Zevran asked.

"Nah, we're light on gold. Just two." Velanna said, "**But-**" then pursed her lips to hold back the rest of her objection; she really wanted to be alone tonight.

While Zevran went to procure the rooms, a sign near the entrance caught Kallian's eye. It said, "Blight Orfans Notis Bord"; Kallian smiled, remembering how she struggled when learning to read and write, then she turned a bit sad, touched by the orphans' circumstance. Glancing to make sure Velanna wasn't looking, she donated 50 silver into their collection tin.

A group of human men at a table nearby giggled into their ales. Kallian looked behind her then back at them, shaking her head. "Dumb drunks."

Then she noticed a dwarf woman bringing them even more ale. One of the drunks smacked her on the back and said, "Sorry, was s-aiming for yer bum but s-yer a bit s-short." The dwarf gritted her teeth and muttered, "In Orzammar doing that to a merchant would get your hand chopped, stupid duster."

"S-whatever wensch," he slurred.

"There's work at Vigil's Keep, if you're interested," interjected Kallian as Zevran walked up with the keys to their rooms.

The dwarf eyed her suspiciously then said, "That so."

"Yep. Just ask for a woman named Woolsey. Although, I've got to warn you, she' pretty annoying."

"More than these idiots?"

"Hey!" the most sober of them said.

"Well...no."

"Sounds good to me. If she asked who sent me...?" she asked, trailing off.

"Kallian." Zevran was not surprised that she failed to mention she was the Arlessa but raised his brow all the same.

"I'm Mischa, pleasure making your acquaintance." With that she untied her apron and threw it at the drunkards. While they were distracted, the three elves weaved through the tables and up the stairs.

"Which way to our room?" groaned Velanna to Kallian.

"Our room?"

"What?" she exclaimed. The whole bar looked their way. Kallian exhaled, annoyed at her knack of drawing attention to herself today.

"Sleep on the floor for all I care," Kallian said as Zevran gave her the other key. "But Nate will, in all likelihood, sleep at his sister's, don't you think?"

Velanna apparently hadn't considered that and turned down the hall toward her room.

"Good grief," Kallian muttered to Zevran. "What's up with her today?"

He shrugged and opened the door to their suite.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: : / / dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

**Prompt, this chapter**: dragon age - k ink . live journal 3486 . ? thread = 24575134

**Prompt, this chapter (gist)**: Velanna's first time interspecies sex; Nate is a total gent about it.

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**Notes**: One of my new year's resolutions is to be more consistent about posting. :3 Also, you're getting this pairing earlier than I planned but it just fit. Not saying said pairing won't happen again, mind you. ;)

FYI, this chapter is extra long because it is filling another prompt (referenced above).

**AU Warning**: The cat in this fic would have been named Ser Pounce-a-lot if Anders had anything to say about it. ...You can't have an Awakening fic without Ser Pounce. It's a law (or something).

**Update**: Fixing typos.

* * *

Velanna sat on the windowsill, despite the night's chill, looking at the stars. She wondered if they were actually holes burnt by Elgarn'nan in the veil separating the Pantheon from her and her kind. The thought cheered her for a moment. Then she grew heartsick again, thinking, "_...my kind. I'm sleeping alone in a shemlin tavern and the only elves I know treat me like a child._" She fretted aloud, "...Seranni, where are you?"

In the street below, a human retched while his friends stumbled ahead of him, giggling stupidly.

"_Ugh, typical_," she thought, lip curled. "_...Why should I be afraid of those idiots?_"

With that, she motioned the shudders shut. Then she put on some heavier robes, deciding defiantly to not wear an ear-hiding cap. Finally, she reached for her staff but immediately set it back. "_I need a dar'misu..._", she schemed.

Velanna had never broke into anything before; Kallian, Zevran, and Nathaniel were the lockpicks. But she was determined and vaguely knew what to do from watching them. So, stepping lightly as she could across the creaking floorboards to Kallian and Zevran's room, she pulled her hair picks out and exhaled to steady her hands.

"Can I help you, ser?" said Sorcha, the barmaid.

Jolting, Velanna gruffly lied, "I- uh, I...left my key in the room."

"Oh no worries, dear, I can let you in," she said, already flipping through her key chain. As she unlocked the door, Sorcha whispered, "Fine lady you have, ser. ...Is...everything alright between you two?"

"Wh-...what?"

"It's nothing, dear. But...if things aren't alright...and you'd like someone to talk to, well, you know where to find me," replied Sorcha with a wink. She swayed her hips a little more than necessary as she turned away.

Velanna tilted her head then shook it, quietly opening the door. She cursorily looked around the dimly fireplace-lit room. A glimmer caught her eye; "_On the night stand. Naturally_," she thought. Lifting the dagger quickly, she shot still when Zevran muttered and turned on his side. His arm settled around Kallian's waist and Kallian responded by shifting closer into his chest.

But he nor Kallian woke. Velanna slowly exhaled then paused; they were snuggling sweetly and both had a peaceful, contented look about their faces. She felt a pang of...something. Of longing? Not for clan nor for family but for...that. She greatly missed the other relationships but to also not 'have a someone and be theirs too' was specifically painful.

She sighed then turned toward the door, looking back again. The fire light glinted off of Zevran's hair. Then she realized: with her blond hair down and tattooed face, that stupid shemlin woman must have mistook her for Zevran. Normally something like that would have infuriated her. Normally she'd call her a racist (for thinking all elves look the same) and a bitch (for missing her female...features).

...But tonight, tonight it bruised her already hurting heart. She broodingly stuffed her hair picks and the dagger in her robe's pockets, cursing when she hear a stitch tear but gloomily resigning to fix it later. "_Sylaise, please remind me_," she muttered in prayer. As she left the tavern, she didn't notice the clinking, scooting, and chortling that so bothered her just hours before.

The crisp winter air enjoyably stung her nostrils. Looking around, she decided to climb the stairs to the Chantry and get a better vantage point of the city. She crossed the street and leisurely ascended the stairs.

The stars were dimmer than when they all camped outside, she noticed. Velanna reasoned that the higher concentration of torches in the city must be the cause. Amaranthine itself was an impressive sight though she would never admit it aloud to anyone. She wondered if the elves ever had grand archways, paved streets, and the like. Closing her eyes, she imagined filigreed columns intermingled with trees, porches open to the setting sun and rising moon, and streams cascading over mossy rocks so every corner of the fortress was filled with the sound of renewal.

"_Again, please. As before_," she hoped, once more looking to the 'burnt holes' in the night sky and believing in the deities she fervently wished would intervene.

Near the landing, she saw the statue Nathaniel had mentioned. "_That doesn't look like a man-_" A templar stationed by the statue interrupted her thought: "Food pantry isn't open this late, ser. So-" His voice paused while approaching her, drawn blade flashing in the moon light, "I'm going to have to ask...you..."

Velanna couldn't see his facial expression because of his helmet. But by the trailing off of his voice she knew she needed to go. Now.

Before he could tell, for sure, if the "person's" face was tattooed like a heathen Dalish, Velanna had turned and retreated down the stairs. She called over her shoulder, reusing the gruff voice that misgendered her earlier, "Sorry, looking for my- uh, my-" She saw a group of trees ahead and finished, "my cat!"

He stood for a moment, skeptical. Taking the first step down to pursue "the person", he heard a cat mew behind him. He eyed it, then "the person" rushing away, and wondered if the story was legitimate. "_Should know better than to be out this late_," he mentally scolded Velanna. So he approached the creature and it responded by rubbing against his hand and purring. "_If you turn out to be a desire demon-possessed shifter, kitty, I'll gut you myself_," he sneered. Cat in arm, he knocked on the Chantry door to alert the other on-duty templar of the situation. Then he descended the stairs.

Velanna panted behind a tree. She paused though when she heard the knock on the Chantry door. "_Is he getting reinforcements?_" she wondered, anxiously. If she had to, she'd root travel into the tavern larder.

Although, she admitted, that was a sure way to get reported. An image formed in her mind of the barkeep complaining to the army of templars: "An elf, covered in dirt, magically appeared between the carrots and the cabbage! I saw it with my own eyes!"

But the templar army didn't come pouring down the steps. Just the lone templar...with something in his arms.

_Inhale. Exhale._

Flight was out of the question. ...But maybe she could fight. It was only one templar; she didn't think he knew she was a mage so maybe she could surprise him. She slowly retrieved the dagger from her pocket and prepared to strike when he reached-

"Zevran, is that you?"

Velanna whirled around, dagger drawn and fist clenched to hold back a fire ball. But immediately she dropped both; it was Nathaniel returning from his sister's house.

"Do I look like a man?" she whispered, harshly, irritated with the night's events more than she was at him.

"Velanna?"

"Shh!" She motioned with her head then said, "Templar."

While her back was turned, the templar reached the foot of the stairs and spotted them. "Sers, is this your cat?" he called.

"Cat?" asked Nathaniel in a low whisper to Velanna.

"I had to tell him something!"

Nathaniel called back, feigning gratitude, "Thank you, ser templar, we've been looking everywhere for it."

The templar crossed to them, handed the cat to Nathaniel, glanced at Velanna, then said, "It's not wise to send servants out after sundown, young ser."

Velanna opened her mouth to yell her outrage when Nathaniel interjected, calmly, "Thank you for your assistance, ser. But she is no servant of mine."

"Well, tell your master-"

"The Commander of the Grey Wardens is not our master, ser," he said, more assertive this time.

"You're Grey Wardens?" asked the templar, puzzled. "Why are to looking for a cat-"

"Our mission is our business, ser templar. And, like us, you have to return to your post, do you not?" Nathaniel asked, with impatient condescension. Templar bowed his goodbye and returned up the stairs.

Velanna thought, "_Ma serannas, Mythal_," then whispered to Nathaniel so the templar wouldn't overhear, "...What are we going to do with a stray cat?"

"...Hide it in your robes. When we get to the inn, just let it out of your window."

Taking the cat from him, their hands touched. She swallowed then said, "Ma ser- I mean, thank you."

"For?"

"For not claiming I was your servant. That would have been the easier thing to do, but you didn't."

Glancing at her, he replied, "...The elven servants at my father's command were far kinder to me than he ever was. I don't intend your people offense, my lady."

"_**Why** did you have to be a shemlin?_" she thought, forlornly. The moonlight made his dark hair and eyelashes contrast artfully with his fair skin and grey eyes.

He felt her gaze linger. "_Seems like a good sign_," he thought, with a quick subtle smile. After a pause, he said, "You don't look like a man, by the way. ...The robes...they do look like a man's winter coat though."

"_That's why Sorcha thought I was Zevran_," she realized, vowing to buy something more feminine when she could. But, to be sure, she asked, "I...don't look like...Zevran...do I?"

"What?"

"With my hair down?"

He stopped walking to face her. She petted the purring cat in her arms, afraid of an affirmative.

"Not at all. Your tattoos aren't even the same. Who-"

Relieved by the verdict, she said "Oh, the barmaid. I'm just glad you don't-" She stopped her words, mentally kicked herself, and continued walking.

Quicker than she expected he could move, he opened the door for her and murmured, "If you wore it down more often, I wouldn't complain."

Passing through the tavern's door, she blushed and smiled despite herself. "Good night, Nathaniel," she said over her shoulder, ready to be out of his...distracting...presence.

"Don't I have a room?" he asked.

She stopped walking, gulped, and slowly faced him, sure the tips of her ears were bright red. "Kallian and Zevran thought you would stay at your sister's...so, um...we'd have to...share."

He forced the corners of his upturning lips to their normal position and feigned nonchalance. "Well, I can _see_ if I can stay at my sister's..." he ventured. Her expression dropped before she faked agreement by nodding. So he knew he could risk suggesting, "but she is probably in bed already. Would you object...?"

"...Kallian thought two rooms was enough so...we'll have to make due," she said, trying to appear pragmatic.

"Please, lead the way," he said, with a small bow of his head.

Reaching their room, she set the cat down, rekindled the fire, and snapped her fingers to light the candles around the room. The room was chilly but wouldn't be for long. "_Especially since..._" Nathaniel thought, pleased with the arrangement. "_I'll have to thank Zevran in the morning._"

Velanna swallowed to re-moisten her dry mouth then said, "It's, uh, it's a bit cold outside. Would you mind if I didn't let the cat out tonight?"

"...Not at all," he replied, trying to not leer as she took off her outer robes.

She paused, then moved behind the dressing blind to change into her night shirt. She didn't realize the fire and candles made her naked silhouette visible.

Nathaniel had to force himself to be the gentleman and look away. He distracted himself by undressing, then unfurled both of their bedrolls.

She came out from behind the blind. "What are you doing?" Velanna asked, her face a mixture of confusion and disappointment. The candle in her hand accentuated her blond hair, slender neck, and silk-covered breasts.

"_What am I doing?_" Nathaniel asked himself. It occurred to him that he stared at her too long and swallowed hard. "Um, well, I assumed..."

"Oh," she said, a little dejected, "right, yes. Of course. ...It's only fair." Then she put the candle on her side of the bed and began getting into her cold, lonely bedroll.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, quietly, from the other side of the bed in his bedroll, he said "Velanna."

"...Yes?"

"We sleep on the ground all the time. ...I wouldn't mind sharing the luxury with you." Then he quickly added, "If you are okay with that."

She couldn't believe that she said, "Okay." Her heart instantly began to pound.

Velanna jittering a little, they both climbed into the bed. Nathaniel was on his side and she let herself be pulled into his chest. Her mouth watered when he put his arm around her waist. His breath and...kiss!...on her neck made the room feel humid. She moved her lower body just a bit closer to him and was surprised by his...enthusiasm. He murmured in her ear: "I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight, my lady."

She was about to reply. Then the cat mewed, jumped up, and curled itself into a ball between their legs. "_Mythal..._" Velanna mentally groaned.

Rationality came rushing back to her. He was a ex-noble shemlin Grey Warden and she an ex-Dalish elven 'apostate'. There was no way-

"...Maybe...um," she swallowed, "maybe we should just...sleep." With that, she lifted the cat off the bed, opened the shudders, and bid the cat farewell.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, sitting up on his elbows.

The cold air from outside gave her goose-flesh and blew out most of the candles. Closing the shudders, she diverted, "No...it's just...ahm, I've never been with a sh- um... a human before." She thought, but did not say her true motivation, "And can't because I'm Dalish and you're...ugh, what was I thinking?"

"I see," he said, trying to be sensitive but, at the same time, disliking the turn of events. Velanna got back under the blankets. She felt the distance between her and Nathaniel was at least 50 times wider than it actually was. Nathaniel, a back-sleeper, laid awkwardly on his side. Velanna tossed and turned fitfully before extinguishing the remainder of the candles. "_I guess I really won't be able to sleep tonight_," he mused.

After a while, when Velanna settled down, he began to pack up so he could get a room of his own.

But suddenly she sat up, relighting the candle on her night stand. "Nathaniel?"

"...Yes, Velanna?"

"Can we...can we just get this over with?"

"Sorry?"

"I-, I think about you all the time and I won't be able to sleep because it'll be 100 times worse but I'm afraid-"

"Velanna."

"...Yes?"

"It'll be fine. ...It's not as though we are the first or anything," he said with a chuckle.

"Yes. Right. Okay..."

Wordlessly, he brushed some errant hair behind her ear, kissed her exposed cheek and neck, and slid back under the covers. She closed her eyes and leaned back, arching her chest to his lips. "Velanna?"

"Hm?"

"Do you have tattoos elsewhere?" he asked, tracing her collarbone. She looked up at him bashfully. "Yes...," she slowly returned.

"May I see?"

She nodded coyly and pulled off her night shirt, revealing inked curls from beneath her breasts. They spun down in delicate patterns to her navel, hips, then on down her legs. Salivating, he bid her to lay back down then redrew the lines of her tattoos with his fingers. When he reached her hips, he kneaded her side while his lips follow the same path. With his cheek on her abdomen and his hand lightly moving to her inner thigh, he asked, "May I look at you?"

She squirmed a little and asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said, still looking at her face, "'May I look at you?'" and lightly grazed her clit with his thumb.

Her breath hitched. Then she said, "Ahm, jus- just with your eyes, right?"

That was not the answer he hoped for but this far was way better than getting cock-blocked by a stray cat. He nodded.

"...I, um, I don't-" He moved his hand but she put it back (more squarely on her clit) and pulled him up toward her, hungrily kissing him. Shortly after, he relieved himself of his smalls and sat up get in position.

Velanna stared wide-eyed at his length. Sensing her trepidation, he motioned for her to straddle him. "It's easier if it's done this way," he said, reassuringly.

"Oh, is that so?" Velanna asked, eyebrow cocked, then with embarrassed alarm, "Did you ask Kallian?" It was like finding out your significant other gets sex tips from your sibling.

Amused, he lifted her on top of him and said, "No...I...have my own knowledge." He paused, looking apprehensive, then asked, "Is that a problem?"

Velanna shook her head while rubbing his tip against her center. "I also have knowledge. Not of sh-, I mean, not of humans...but," she paused, looked down, and shrugged, "well, we aren't _that_ different of creatures. You're just a lot...hmm..."

Her pace lessened as her preoccupation with logistics grew. To re-focus her, he asked, "You've, uh, what is it...You've 'bonded' before?" He nearly asked if she had been married but thought better of it, at least for now, and hoped he hadn't inadvertently brought up something painful. Or distracting...

"Yes, I've bonded before," she replied, then with a wry smile, "Made Arlathvenns much more fun." Her pace unconsciously increased. She was slick with want; it had been a while...

Finally she stopped. He looked at her, "Is something-" But, just then, she closed her eyes, clenched her teeth, and guided in his tip. Then she was still. He tentatively thrust but she said, "Don't!", nearly blistering his forearms with the heat of her palms. So he remained still. It seemed like minutes had passed when she finally, gingerly, began to pump. Whenever he tried to join in on her efforts, she stopped him, paused, began again herself.

Until she found her heat.

She slid to his hilt and groaned gutturally, throwing her head back. Lolling her head forward, blond hair shining in the firelight, she opened her heavy-lidded eyes to look in his, and said, "I'm ready."

Wasting no time, Nathaniel held her hips and thrust deliberately. In kind, her face contorted orgasmically. She pleaded, "Faster!" and he enthusiastically obliged. Sweat droplets from her bouncing tits weaved patterns down her tattooed skin. As their combined rhythm gained speed, her unabashed moans nearly made him come early several times. She was tight like a virgin but, when she clenched around him in orgasm, it was as though all his seed released at once. Even the reserves.

Velanna panted, shaking involuntarily every now and again, and said, "We have **got** to do that again." As she extracted him from herself, he replied, "As you..._pant_...wish, my lady," wiping sweat for his brow and smiling.

The room was sweltering.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: : / / dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

* * *

**AU Warning**: The quest sequence in this chapter is out of order relative to the game. Also, pretend the Chantry courtyard is larger.

* * *

-1-

Kallian stormed out into the sunny, floridian winter day, pushing Chantry-goers as she barged up the stairs. "_Blight orphans_," she fumed. The taverners (who fooled her) stumbled after their clinking donation tin; she was about to give to the Chanter. Velanna, Nathaniel, and Zevran followed, their packs heavy on their backs. They soon surpassed the drunkards, however. Dirk, the ring leader, tripped and landed face first in manure. His comrades immediately forgot their quarry. Instead they pointed, grabbed their middles, and laughed loudly at his expense in the middle of the busy street.

"You said we were light on gold!" yelled Velanna to Kallian up the stairs, begrudging that she could use that money for a more feminine coat.

Misinterpreting what she meant, Nathaniel said, "You didn't seem to mind last night!"

"That was you two?" said Zevran, irritable. Both he and Kallian were woken up by the amorous noises. And she was put off by his suggestion on how to get back to sleep. It dawned on him that he may have been dismissed because Kallian wanted the feel of a human again. He scowled in Nathaniel's direction.

Several parishioners looked at each other, astonished to be in the middle of these strangers' scandals right there on the Chantry steps.

"Would you all shut it!" yelled Kallian back at the three of them from the top of the stairs. She marched up to the Sister at the Chanter's Board and said, with no attempt to hide her ill temper, "I want to make a donation!"

"The, uh, the Maker loves a, ahm, a..._cheerful_...giver, ser," returned the Sister, taken back but trying to be pleasantly instructional. She learned too much information about these four in a short span of time; maybe some wisdom would stick if she chose her words.

Kallian narrowed her eyes, closed them when she inhaled, then exhaled. Turning to Velanna, she asked flatly, "What do you need gold for?"

Velanna, glancing at then away from Nathaniel, said curtly, "A new coat." Nathaniel, putting it together correctly, lowered and shook his head. Kallian moved to give Velanna a portion of the tin's contents, sheepishly.

The Sister sagely intervened, "You can not give what isn't yours, ser."

Kallian shot back, "Yeah, well, piss doesn't spend!" then less hostile, "...Sorry."

After fluttering her lashes at Kallian's brashness (but holding her tongue), the Sister extended her collection jar. She said, "Thank you for the generosity. Who may we thank?"

Kallian dropped in some coins and hesitated. Since becoming Arlessa, she generally didn't like revealing who she was because of all the annoying pomp and circumstance that came with it. And now, after making an ass of herself and her friends, she really didn't want to.

Finally, she said, "Uh...Kalli- um...Vigil's Keep."

A templar, who had been standing stoically at the Sister's side during all of this, interjected, "...Ser Tabris?"

"_Shit_," Kallian thought, wincing, then replied slowly, "...Yeah...That's me."

Velanna shifted her feet uneasily and inched away, disliking the templar's apparent interest in Kallian (and, presumably, her associates). Nathaniel followed Velanna to apologize for embarrassing her but something caught his eye.

The templar kneeled, saying, "Forgive me, ser. But I must say, it is a honor to see you again." At this, Zevran turned on his heel and stalked off by himself. The Sister looked down at the templar like he had lost his mind.

Falling to recall this buckethead from the rest, Kallian cleared her throat and said, "Uh, hello ser...again."

The templar stood and explained, "Knight-Commander Tavish, ser. I went with King Alistair to collect the apostate called 'Anders'." Kallian gulped; she really didn't want Velanna to know about that. She stole a glance at her and was relieved when she wasn't there.

Tavish continued, lowering his gaze, "Regretfully, most of my detachment was killed when he escaped. I am stationed here in case he shows himself. Ser, in your travels, you haven't seen him, have you?"

"Um...no...can't say that I have."

"Well, ser, please be on your guard. I have every reason to believe that, if given the opportunity, he would make an attempt on your life."

"_Fucking lovely_," she thought, "_A vengeful mage is just what I need..._"

To the Sister, Tavish said, "This is the Warden Commander, slayer of the Archdemon. And our Arlessa."

"An elf?" said the Sister, disbelieving. Then, horrified that she said that aloud, she deflected, "Um, uh, S- Ser Tavish, could- could you please alert Constable Aidan? As our Arlessa, ha-ahm, I'm sure she wants to be kept abreast of situation within the City. And- and he may have information about the whereabouts of this Anders fellow!"

Unimpressed by the pomp and circumstance she'd been trying to avoid (and the Sister's overcompensating 'helpfulness'), Kallian said, "Fine. Lead the way." To the men she thought were still behind her, she said, "What's one more day..."

When she turned, the sunlight beamed down on Nathaniel. He was looking up at a statue in the courtyard. And it did not look like a relative of his. "_They must have tore it down...and Delilah must not have told him_," she thought, revising her judgement of his sister.

Kallian motioned for Tavish to wait for her and walked over to Nathaniel. As she approached, he said, "It figures, actually."

"What does?"

Nathaniel continued, "There used to be another statue here, of Byron Howe, my great uncle. He died in the rebellion helping King Maric reclaim his throne. Yet his statue is gone. ...All because of what my father did." He lightly pound the stone skirt of Andraste with his fist, then said, "...There's a long line of heroes in my family. The Howes have been around since...since Calenhad. Now it's all gone. ...Curse my father and his idiot ambition. He lost everything for us, didn't he?"

She didn't know what to say. Nothing seemed appropriate, especially since she was the reluctant Arlessa of his reallocated inheritance. So she reached up and touched his shoulder, trying to console.

Velanna finally got the vantage point of the city she nearly got locked up for last night. She breathed in the crisp air, waiting for Nathaniel to come and apologize. When he didn't come, she turned just in time to see Kallian's sign of friendship.

Not far from her, Zevran glared down at the street below, manufacturing reasons for why Kallian would want a human again. He turned and saw the gesture as well.

Neither interpreted it correctly.

After a moment, Kallian said, "...You're a Grey Warden now, Nate. As one, I figure all you can do is do good by your family and country."

"Not too much pressure, alright?" he replied, gruffly, sniffling a little.

Matter-of-fact, she said, "No pressure. It's already true. Hell, you didn't kill-" with faux-condension, "'the Warden Commander, slayer of the Archdemon,' you know." She grinned and he chuckled. More seriously, she continued with a half smile, "Proof you are truer to your line than he was, I'd said."

His soft, affected expression toward Kallian when Zevran approached furthered deepened his ill-conceived suspicion.

Velanna had seen plenty enough from her distance too. She marched half way to them with a livid earful for Kallian in her throat. Then she saw a templar waiting a short distance away. Muttering a curse, she turned back to the balcony, checking her ears for fumes.

To the men Kallian said, "Well, I have good news and bad news. Good news: we're going to spend another day in civilization." She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb to Tavish. She contined, mostly to Zevran, "The bad news is that the Anders guy escaped and might be trying to kill me."

"You seem to have a knack for that," Nathaniel said, amused, "Thinking about recruiting him too?"

Kallian rolled her eyes and scoffed good-naturedly. Zevran crossed his arms; Nathaniel apparently didn't remember that he was the reason Kallian spared him. An act he was mentally reneging now.

She continued, "So while Nate and I are talking to the Constable-" Nathaniel looked at her, surprised to be invited, "could you take Velanna and get your shopping done then meet us at the inn?"

Zevran's shock morphed into a cold glare. "_Trying to bed him while I'm out!_" he silently accused.

Sensing weirdness and knowing his apology to Velanna was overdue, Nathaniel suggested, "...Perhaps you and Zevran should go."

Kallian's face fell slightly. Zevran clenched his teeth at this sight. She thought, "_You've been groomed your whole life for this nobility shit. ...Guess I'll have to wing it. As usual..._"

"Alright, Nate. Here's some gold for the room. If you see a decent bedroll for Zevran, get it too," she said. Nathaniel nodded and strode in Velanna's direction, cringing already from the impending tongue-lashing.

"...Ready, Zev?"

Zevran's voice was a hiss, "As you wish, my dear."

She tilted her head and opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when Tavish approached and asked, "Ready, sers?"

Zevran purposefully did not met her bewildered look and followed on the heels of Tavish.

The templar lead the way down the stairs and around town to the Guard House. When they reached the entrance, Tavish said with a bow, "Please give Constable Aidan my regards."

"Certainly," answered Zevran for Kallian, then swung open the door and stomped up the stairs without her.

"Zevran?" she called after him, utterly bemused. Then she hoisted up her pack and ascended the stairs.

-2-

Nathaniel set his pack down next to Velanna's on the ground. Velanna continued staring at the horizon. "Nice view," he offered. She glanced side-long at him without responding.

"I, uh, I use to come here when I was child. Seems a lot smaller now that I've grown." He was cheered with the memory of playing tag with his siblings and the Couslands in the marketplace. But instantly, that warmth faded to loss; he wondered if his father, 'the Butcher', had killed his childhood friends. "_Delilah didn't tell me about the statue...is there more bad news she's keeping from me?_" he thought.

Velanna interpreted the twisting of his face as a sign of not knowing what to say. So, she replied, "This is the biggest city I've been in."

Distracted by what he hoped was needless grief but trying to do right by Velanna, he said, "I... I didn't like coming to the Chantry, really. Mother insisted for appearance's sake. I preferred playing tag with Delilah, Thomas, and...well, others...in the market-"

Crossing her arms, she interrupted, "Are you going to apologize for embarrassing me or not?"

"Well...yes. But first I was going to offer going coat shopping with you at the old tailor. You are small so I bet we could find something nice with the coin between us."

She blinked, "Oh..."

He swallowed, looked at the ground, and said, "But...before that...I'd like to drop by my sister's. I need to ask her something."

"_For directions, no doubt_," Velanna thought, pitying him a bit. Then she thought, "_And when we get back to the inn, I need to ask Kallian why she felt the need to make fun of me to you...!_"

-3-

_During the Blight._

The click of the chest's lock announced her victory. Smirking, Kallian opened it. Talking over her shoulder to the others, she raised a deep mushroom and said, in sing-song, "Tch, tch. Sophie's got bad **hab**-its." Zevran and Leliana chuckled. Alistair looked around the suite nervously. Kallian tossed the contraband in Alistair's direction but Zevran caught it.

As Kallian stood to face them, she said of her mark, "Ah, but good taste though." She raising the spoil from the lockbox, she nuzzled the silk carpet with her cheek while revealing a sparkling, fist-sized diamond.

Zevran and Leliana exchanged looks of congratulation, as the three rougues conjured their smoky, stealth cloaks. "Let's head back to Slim," said Kallian.

Alistair was the first to exit the room.

-4-

"I'm Arlessa now, Zevran! Surely I don't have to tell you that working with the guards is more strategic," Kallian muttered after minutes of silence. She didn't understand the exact cause of Zevran's cold-shoulder treatment; all she knew was she wanted to go back to bed and start this day over.

The inn was a welcome sight. Until Zevran passed, went through the tavern door, and headed straight for the innkeep without her.

"We have rooms here again, yes?" Zevran asked.

"Yes, ser." The innkeep slid the key across the counter but instinctively recoiled when Zevran reached for it. The elf rolled his eyes without comment and continued up the stairs, again without waiting for Kallian.

"Zevran, wait!" she demanded over the noise. He didn't.

She sighed, thought, "_I'm going to regret this_," then weaved toward the bar. The bartender was surprised she knew about the passage and was even more surprised that this stringy elf woman had the gall to-

"Your beard hides my blade perfectly. I could stab it right through your throat and no one'd be able to see it," she cooed, her dagger just nearly piercing beneath his Adam's apple. She continued, twirling his wiry facial hair with other hand, "They'd think you'd passed out. Dwarves are drunk a lot, you know." Then she took the rum bottle in his shaking hand, took a swig, then tipped the bottle toward his lips. As he drank, she pressed the edge in his throat just enough-

"St- stock room, t- toward the b- back," he stammered, sputtering liquor droplets onto his beard.

"That's a good boy," she whispered, kissing his clammy forehead. "And the key?"

He quickly produced it and, with a smug nod, she relieved him of it. As she sauntered away she said over her shoulder, "Nice doing business with you," then faded into the shadows.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: : / / dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

**Prompt, this chapter**: dragon age - k ink . live journal 8033 . ? thread = 27989089 # t 27989089

**Prompt, ^gist**: Jealous!Zevran gets shown how much he doesn't have to worry about.

**Update**: Fixing typos...

* * *

Zevran sat in the dark, staring without sight toward the afternoon-sunlit window. "_How long has she been doing this?_" he wondered, his chest paining him. He hunched over, holding his head with one hand and pressing the other against his chest as to somehow lessen the tightness. The sound of the door opening made him startle.

"Alright Zev, I know where the entrance is and got the...key..." Kallian trailed off then continued, "Why are you sitting in the dark?"

He cleared his throat then said softly, "Thinking."

Kallian dropped her pack on the floor and kicked it out of her path. "What?"

He rubbed his temples and repeated, sharply, "Thinking!"

"...About?" she asked impatiently, lighting a couple candles.

Zevran scooted the chair so his back was more toward her. His tone a bit strangled, he said, "Just leave me alone."

Her shoulders fell. A slight whine in her voice, she asked, crossing to him, "Zevran, please tell me. You've been acting weird all day."

Arms folded tightly, he looked over his shoulder briefly to dismiss her again. But his resolve faded when he saw her concerned expression. She put her hands on his shoulders; they tensed briefly but soon drooped. Her thumbs rubbed in circles on his upper back and she kissed the crown of his head. "Please?" she asked again, sweetly.

With a chest-emptying sigh, he dryly swallowed then asked, "How...long have you-" But before he could finish the question, he clenched his teeth and shook his head, nostrils flared.

Kallian gently caught his chin with her fingers and caused him to look at her. "How long have I...?"

His eyes were large, misting and pleading. He forced himself to blurt, "Wanted Nathaniel."

She cocked her head, squinted, and chuckled, saying, "Sorry, what?"

Sinking lower into the chair, grimacing, and crossing his arms once more, he replied, "You heard me."

She kissed the top of his head again then moved to lean on the window sill next to him. After a few moments of quiet, she said, "Zevran...I don't. And haven't ever. ...How...how did you arrive at that? ...Because I wanted him to talk to the Constable?"

His features pinched together as he tried to remember what exactly got him on this path; he'd had so many racing, furious thoughts today.

"...You know I don't like dealing with this Arlessa crap. Hell, I would have just sent _**him **_if I thought I could have."

He tilted his head quizzically up at her. She continued, "The 'lordling' was going to be Arl, Zev. Figured I'd let him talk and learn a thing or two."

He softened; that was not an angle he considered. Then, through the wall, they heard a woman giggle, followed by a man chuckling, then furniture scrapping across the floor. The woman playfully screeched; after than there was faint murmuring.

Zevran snapped, "Why did you dismiss me last night?"

Taken back by his volatility, she paused before she spoke. "...Did I not say she-" Kallian said, gesturing to her mound, "is unavailable?"

He blinked. "...No."

A corner of her mouth raised. "Well, I'm sorry. I thought I did but I was also very sleepy and the racket-" she pointed with her chin toward the lustful sounds through the wall, "didn't help."

Yet another thing he hadn't considered. "Oh," he said, his body softening but still with closed posture.

Kallian reached out and combed his hair with her fingers. Then she leaned in, kissing his brow and cheek. "Clothes off," she said abruptly and immediately began disrobing herself.

"But you said-"

"We aren't." Now topless, she flipped her hair loose from its tie then began unfastening her breeches. "Come on, slow poke."

Zevran stood up and undressed too. "Lay down," she instructed. Kallian was naked except for her cheeky black knickers.

He admired her form but she interrupted his gaze by pointing to the bed. She said, with a smile, "Go on now, belly down." Not sure what he was in for, he obliged.

"Close your eyes," she whispered and he reluctantly did so. The first thing he felt was the lacy detail of her smalls on his lower back as she straddled him. Then she shifted so that her fingers pinched and kneaded the cords of his neck. From there, she extended down to his upper back. "Grab my ass," she said. When he did so, the muscles beneath his shoulder blades were more accessible. He groaned as her thumbs caused the knots there to jump.

She leaned forward and kissed his neck, gravity making her breasts graze his skin. He smiled for the first time in what felt like months.

Her efforts, peppered with kisses, continued down his back, bum, thighs, calves, and feet. Zevran was usually the giver, not recipient, of such attention. He remembered what started their affair, there in the new King's bed chamber; she must feel the same way about him as he did for her, he decided.

"Turn over on your back?" she asked, bringing him back to the moment.

Starting to roll over as she moved away, he asked, "I get the same treatment on this side too, hm?"

"Yes," she said, then flirtatiously she confessed, "Although I plan to narrow my focus." Kallian lightly felt up his turgid length.

Pleased, he suggested, "You could skip to that part." The cries in the next room were getting louder.

"I wouldn't cheat you," then with a quick wry smile, she added, "or **_on_** you." After he mentally acknowledged her cleverness with eye rolling, he fought to not jump when her kisses tickled his foot's arch.

Up his front side she went, kissing and rubbing. He flexed his buttocks when she neared his member but she purposefully passed over, massaging his pectorals instead.

"Kallian," he murmured. She continued to ignore him, moving to his arms, forearms, and hands.

Listening to their amorous neighbors and receiving all this attention, his cock strained for some friction. And it finally came, tortuously soft. She traced her fingers lightly down his chest, abdomen, then up to his tip.

He bunched the blankets with his hands and squirmed. "Kalli," he said. Wordlessly, she gently took his shaft into her hand and stroked, then kissed and sucked on his bulge.

Thankfully, her grip got firmer. Then her other hand massaged his balls while her lips traveled up his length. She paused and asked, "Ready?"

Zevran nodded emphatically. With that, the moist heat of her mouth took him in. She sucked and swirled while continuing to stroke his cock and balls. Then she struck this lovely, maddening pace. He bucked and twisted his face in delightful agony. Right as he started to cum, she took him almost completely into her mouth and squeezed his sac. His release was nearly painful bliss.

Beyond their door in the hallway, Sorcha stalked by all the noise from the inn's occupants. "_I apparently work in a whorehouse! ...And can't get any! Kristoff was the last promising one!_" she thought.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt, original**: : / / dragonage - k ink . live journal 328 . ? thread = 280392 # t280392

**Prompt, QueenChicken**: "Zevran and the warden run off to amranthie for her job as warden commander while she is doing that Alistair is looking for a human wife but he cant stop seeing her face on every noble and when the darkspawn attack the wardens keep he decides to help out but when he gets there he sees her and he tries apoligizing and she turns him down cuz she has already gotten over him and while rebuilding the wardens zevran helped her get over alistair fully"

* * *

**Notes**: Remember folks, all elves are members of Fight Club's sister organization, Project Mayhem. Never, ever hack off your food service professionals...!

The tasty-sounding menu borrowed from here (never been there so not an endorsement necessarily; just citing my sources)... doc stoc docs / 18937138 / Sample - Dinner - Menu - at - Zephyr - on - the - Charles

* * *

-1-

_That evening, at the castle in Denerim._

Adwen's stirring slowed as he saw Shianni cut through the kitchen to get to the banquet hall. This was her stubborn ritual. She always went through there instead of the fancy shem entrances, saying hello to her fellow elves as she went.

And it was the highlight of Adwen's day.

Tonight she was wearing the green dress with silvery and golden accents at the bodice. He didn't know the name of the highlighting color but the overall effect was...sultry. Exposed collar bone, just enough cleavage showing, smooth fabric hugging a toned stomach...leading down to...

He watched her pass, slack-jawed and unblinking. She waved politely and he forgot to wave back until too late. But that didn't bother him; watching her walk away was equally enjoyable. The torches made the flexing of her rear under her velvety dress much from evident.

He entertained the thought that she wasn't wearing knickers when his shem boss surprised him with a slap on the back of his head. "Back to work," the human said, gruffly.

Adwen rubbed his smarting noggin and, replied, resignedly, "Yes, ser." Half-heartedly stirring when the shem left, he continued to think about Shianni's clingy dress and the various parts it clung to.

"That's probably done, Adwen," said one of his female coworkers, raising an eyebrow at him. He was barely stirring the soup, twitching occasionally, and staring stupidly at nothing.

Adwen shook his head and returned, "Oh, right." He took the pot off the flame, lugged it to the transport cart, then he got a devious idea. "Has anyone seasoned this yet?" he asked.

"I don't think so."

"Okay. I'm gonna add the special stuff then."

"Ah, got it," replied the elf woman, knowingly, "I'll tell the others."

Whistling as he pushed the cart, he navigated through the kitchen, down the hall, then to the larder. Once there, he latched the door behind him then poked around for some butter. Finding some, he set the soup on the floor, removed the lid, unlaced his breeches, and knelt over it.

He imagined that the steam billowing up from the pot was Shianni's light moist kisses on his cock and balls. The butter and friction were her salivating mouth taking him in. He inhaled deeply, imagining that the soup smell was actually her enthusiastic vagina, turned on by his pleasure.

..."Seasoning" the clam chowder didn't take long...

Grunting with his release, Adwen slowly stood back up. He grabbed a towel for his hands, blended his issue into the soup with a rusty spoon, then garnished it with some phlegm and parsley.

He smiled as he hoisted the pot back onto the cart. "_If the shems knew how much of our piss, spit, shit, and cum they'd eaten over the years, they'd never eat again_," he thought, victoriously.

-2-

_Same evening, in dining hall._

Shianni cocked her brow. She asked of the elf servant woman standing next to her, "What do you recommend?". Having worked in a kitchen or two before being appointed as Bann of the Alienage, Shianni knew better than to just pick whatever looked good.

The servant spun the circular tray so that the clam chowder was the furthest away. She replied, pointing demonstratively, "The Warm Spinach Salad, ser. It is complimented by a strawberry confit, whipped Brie, and a candied almond bacon vinaigrette."

"Sounds great," said Shianni, smirking. "Um...hold the Brie, please?"

"Certainly, ser." The servant bowed her head graciously (to hide her own smirk) and moved to the noble sitting next to Shianni.

"For you, ser?"

"Clam chowder."

-3-

Shianni excused her.

She was having a hard time not choking or laughing. All the nobles at her table ignored the servant's suggestion and got the clam chowder. Whenever they praised the flavor, she bit her tongue. Whenever they slurped, she coughed. And whenever they spooned too much at one time so that it dribbled down their chins, she teared up and snickered. Quickly, she weaved through the tables toward the kitchen so she could announce the victory to the elven service staff before the next course.

Habren, Arl Bryland's daughter, snapped her fingers at Shianni, saying, "You there, fetch me more chowder." Leonas Bryland was too engrossed in what Bann Alfstanna was saying to correct his precocious daughter.

Shianni stopped and was about to say something to put that brat in her place. But, instead, she smiled slowly and said, "Right away, ser."

-4-

_Near the front of the dining hall, by the King's table._

Elissa Cousland observed lazily all of the 'potentials'. Habren, for example, was surely too young. Bann Alfstanna had a lot to gain but was older and would probably continue to see Arl Bryland in secret. Looking around, she was surprised Anora wasn't in the running. But, Elissa could identify; after all the trysts with Thomas over the years, it would be weird to have to marry his brother, Nathaniel.

Her odds were good but she didn't want to be there. King Alistair wasn't a disagreeable-looking man but he was terribly plebeian. Thomas, however, was quite refined. Even if he was still alive, marrying the son of your parents' murderer would be-

"Sister, you're frowning," stated Fergus, handing his salad plate to the waiting servant. "Only pretty, _happy_ girls get married off, you know."

She glanced at her brother wryly; she always could make her smile. "I was thinking about Thomas," she confessed.

"...Ah," he said. After a moment, he said, "Speaking of the Howes, I hear Nathaniel is a Grey Warden now. The Warden Commander took him on after his Kirkwall fosters kicked him out. ...Strange woman, that one."

"Ex-lover of the King, is she not?" spooning her clam chowder, absently.

"The same," he returned.

Elissa couldn't help but chuckle; the Warden Commander's proposal was strategic but painfully forward. If she really loved him, the elf should have contented herself as his mistress. But Elissa also knew that titles don't often leave room for love.

Abruptly, she asked Fergus, "Father and Mother loved each other, didn't they?"

"They did, as far as I knew. Why?"

"Oh, it's just-" She stole a glance at the King. He was inches away from falling asleep, open-mouthed with heavy eyelids.

Sagely, Fergus said, "Sister, love isn't always immediate. It can be grown. ...It's like...mold. And mold makes for excellent cheese."

Elissa squinted and chuckled. "I don't think your analogy quite fits."

He shrugged then clapped her shoulder, saying, "You'll be alright, Pup."

She sighed. His gesture bitter-sweetly reminded her of their Father.

-5-

_At the front of the dining hall._

The murmur of polite conversation from the guest tables and the cold spattering of rain behind him outside both numbed his brain. Occasionally a distinct laugh or a crack of thunder would bring him back to the present. But, for the most part, these dimly-lit, stuffy gatherings bored Alistair nearly to sleep. This evening he caught himself twice from falling into his soup bowl.

"How is the clam chowder tasting, ser?" asked the elven servant girl. It was a premature question; if she had looked at the bowl before him, she would have seen that it was nearly full and flimly cold.

"Hm?" he grunted, with eyes opening slightly. He slowly removed his elbow from the table and lowered his hand into his lap. His cheek was red from resting on his palm.

Seeing his largely untouched entrée, she revised her question, "May I clear this course, ser?" She couldn't fault him for not finishing it, given the "special seasoning". "_Don't smile_," she told herself, fighting it.

Alistair blinked the blurriness away then focused on the person bothering him. The candle lit flickered in her eyes and deepened the dimples of her pleasant expression; he couldn't help but think of Kallian-

"Yes," he said, stopping that memory from unfolding.

"The fish course, ser, features pan-blackend swordfish. It is accompanied by Bannorn-grown sweet corn and spinach risotto with an Antivan avocado garnish," she stated, having clearly rehearsed for this occasion.

"Didn't I order the, uh, the- the steak and potatoes?" he asked, grumpily.

She replied, "The fish course will be followed by a light sorbet. Then the main course will be served, ser."

He grunted his acknowledgement. As she gathered his dishes, he reached for his champagne glass. Thunder crashed behind him. Both he and the servant girl jumped. The glass shattered on the floor in front of him and cold calm chowder oozed in his lap.

Hands trembling, she whispered, horrified, "I- I am so sorry!" then rushed to get more napkins. She hated her job but she couldn't survive without it. "_Fired elves don't get second chances_," she fretted.

Many of Alistair's "eligible female" guests startled at the sound as well. The least self-confident among them reddened then checked Alistair's table, wondering if their outburst caught his notice.

Isolde, who was sitting on the other side of Eamon, leaned forward and whispered harshly to Alistair, "Were you raised in a barn?"

He rolled his eyes and thought, "_Yes, actually. Large thanks to you..._"

Eamon, sitting between them, interjected, "At least stay through the sweet course-"

"Le dessert," Isolde corrected, snippy.

"Le dessert," Eamon continued, "...Then go change."

"And return for le digestif in the Landsmeet chamber. I-..._We_...didn't pay to have all of these girls and their chaperones transported here for-"

Eamon stopped her scold with a kind but stern look and gently squeezing her hand. "Your arrangements are appreciated, my love. But Alistair knows," he paused to look at Alistair, "what is best for Ferelden."

"_Guilt trip, set to maximum_," thought Alistair, but said, "Yes, Uncle." He lowered his head and fidgeted with his dessert fork until the servant girl returned with numerous napkins.

-6-

_After dessert._

Isolde sauntered slowly at Eamon's side to the Landsmeet chamber. "It should have been a 21-course meal," she stated, irritated with the whole affair. "We appear uncultivated, Eamon."

"For the engagement party, my love. With the Blight, we're lucky to have as much food as we do," he paused then continued, "You can partly thank Alistair for that, you know."

She inhaled then lifted her chin as she exhaled. "Fine," she replied. He opened the door for her; once through it and in the company of guests again, Isolde was a gracious host once more. She greeted, "Ah, hello Teagan, Miss Kaitlyn. How are the wedding arrangements coming?"

Not paying attention to Kaitlyn's happy report, she mentally fumed, "**_Where is Alistair?_**"

But she hid her annoyance behind a pleasant facade. Isolde replied affirmatively when she sensed the younger woman was done speaking then moved to the next guest with Eamon in tow.

-7-

Noble clothing was too tight across Alistair's chest and shoulders. But that was gradually becoming less the case, unfortunately. Isolde disapproved of him sparing with the guards. These days, he could only sneak of to do so once or twice a week. He straighted his clothes, feeling that his tummy was softer than it once was. Alistair grimaced. He really hated being King.

Sourfaced, he entered the chamber. A guard announced his coming and Isolde and Eamon quickly crossed to him. She started to scold, "Where have you-"

"Changing. Or should I have met our guests with white stains down the front of my trousers?" Alistair returned.

She gritted her teeth at his vulgar insolence. Eamon said, even-tempered, "Go mingle, Alistair."

"And be grateful you are being allowed a choice," snapped Isolde.

Alistair rolled his eyes, grabbed some brandy from a passing servant, and left them. Eamon sighed; sometimes he questioned his own choice of wife.

-8-

Alistair looked around the room at the 'hopefuls'. A few were promising, maybe. But the one at the back of the room, with the green dress and red hair...

He approached her from behind as she faced the wall and made a joke about the painting Isolde bought. It was framed in silver and depicted 32 identical Orlesian porcelain tureens.

"The artist must have been patient to paint the same damn boring thing that many times," replied Shianni.

His shoulders fell. "_Great_," thought Alistair, "_It's you._" The polite thing was to ask about their mutual acquaintance, the Warden Commander, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

She figured this and took the conversation there on purpose. "Kallian is doing well, I hear. Strange these darkspawn aren't going to ground, isn't it?"

He wondered if Kallian had told her cousin about the Ritual. "_Surely not...,_" he hoped. Then he said, "Erm, yes, very odd. ...Wish I could help...but...the duties of court, you know," gesturing over his shoulder.

"Of course," she replied. There was an awkward pause; neither of them wanted to talk to the other. Most of the nobles raised their brows; they didn't come all this way to have him chat up an _elf_.

Finally, Shianni said, "So, did you have the clam chowder?"

"Uh, yes, it was," he was about to say 'okay' but mentally revised when he remember her friends worked in the kitchen, "great."

"Oh. Good," she said. Referencing his drink, she continued, "...The brandy should help disinfect your innards."

"Sorry?"

She shifted her unimpressed gaze from the painting to him and said, "Come on, Al. Think hard." Something about her tone reminded him of Kallian and he sneered. She walked away a step, then (remembering that she was probably being watched by the whole room) turned and curtsied. Alistair took a big drink and stalked over to Eamon.

"Introduce me to someone, anyone," demanded Alistair.

"O-okay, are you alright?"

"No. I'm-, I'm not feeling well," he said, wondering what filth they'd all eaten that evening. As an explanation, he said, trying not to gag, "Clam chowder is, ahm,...disagreeing with me."

Eamon raised a brow. Isolde had that and, despite her humor, seemed to be fine. "Very well, follow me," he said.

-9-

Finally, the night's events were officially over.

Several girls and their chaperones lingered, admiring the artwork. Most hoped to run into Alistair to strengthen their odds. But, third round of brandy in hand, he steered away from any he saw down the hall.

His zig-zagging path eventually lead him to the old wing. "No visitors down this way," he realized and decided to continue on.

He strolled in solitude for a while, feeling sorry for himself. But, rounding the corner, he recognized the room where he and Morrigan had-

"_Maker, what have I done?_" he thought, miserably, and took another swig.

Turning away, he passed by his old office. Drinking deeply from the bottle, he stumbled along, repulsed by what he had done in there. He knew, even in his stupor, that he was lucky to be alive after raping a blood mage.

The salvageable items from the fire were lining the hallway. His foot got tangled in his old armor stand and he fell forward. Prone on the floor, he kicked himself free of it but didn't get up immediately.

Finally pulling himself up, he steadied himself by feeling along the wall. Alistair ended up in a dead end. Thinking it was an exit, he opened the only door available. It was dark so he grabbed a torch from the hallway.

Sullen, he thought, "_Figures_." He was standing in his old bedroom, where Kallian had 'cheated' on him with Zevran. Alistair pulled on the rope that would ring in the servants quarters, sat on the ground with his brandy, and numbly waited to rescued.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes**: Lots of research went into this chapter but please consult a proper recipe before attempting any of these meals and ONLY forage for food you've 100% identified as edible...!

* * *

**AU Warning...?**: I don't know how Dalish wedding ceremonies go. But, for this fic, the engaged persons each tattoo the other one's ring finger as a symbol of their bond.

* * *

**Update**: I've put the translations in brackets after the Elvish.

* * *

-1-

_Same evening, somewhere in the Ferelden wild._

The crackling flames cast a warm glow on the walls of Enansal's cave. She chewed on some bread and stirred her stew while it bubbled over the fire. The old bear den made for a cozy escape from the cold, intermittent drizzle outside.

For dinner tonight, she was having potato and rock tripe stew that she would soon top with walnuts and bleu cheese. She had stolen the cheese from a farmer in the Bannorn and the bread from a band of sleeping, ash-colored giants. When she took it, the bread was near a bag labeled "dates" so she assumed that the sweet dried fruit within the bread must be that (and surely native to whenever the giants were from).

After setting the stew on the ground to cool, she sipped some of her spruce tea. It wasn't quite sweet enough to her liking so she added some birch syrup. Its flavor improved, she drank more then thought, "_...I eat better now than I did in the Alienage!_"

Blowing on the stew and spooning it into her mouth, her thoughts drifted to various memories about those first 'adjusting' months in the Alienage. Her lip curled and she thought, "_I don't have to worry about that noble brat Vaughan cutting off my ears if he catches me diving for food in his dumpsters after curfew._" But her memory preferred times before then. She stretched her thoughts back to when her Papa was alive and they traveled the country together alone.

-2-

_Many years before, sometime in Spring._

Enansal's blue-stained smile had a front tooth missing. She and Papa had 'procured' bread from a nearby farm for breakfast. In victory, they were enjoying the bread with fresh blueberries, chamomile, lemongrass, and honey back at their aravel [Dalish landship]. They had birch-sugared stawberries and halla cheese as an additional treat. He told her the abundance would be over in a few months. But, for now, they enjoyed the Creators provided.

_A few less years before, in early Summer._

Insects angrily charged at Enansal after being shaken from the elderflower branch she had picked. But she shooed them away, put the pleasant-smelling flowers in her basket, and skipped back to her Papa. When he saw her, he said, "Emma vhenan samahl, da'len. Na dara shem! [My heart laugh(s), little child. You are fast!]"

"Ma serannas, Papa, [Thanks, Dad]," she said and cheerfully presented the brimming basket. He noted the quantity then asked, "Did you leave some for Sylaise [one of the Elven Pantheon, called 'the Hearthkeeper']?"

"Of course."

He smiled, squeezed her shoulder, then twisted behind himself to produce her lunch: stir-fried green snap beans and red bell peppers. He shook on some cilantro blueberry vingear and garnished her meal with several elderflower blossoms. She delighted in his cooking, eating it quicker than she should.

"_Enansal_... Felas, da'len or na hima abelas, [Enansal... Slow (down) little child or you (will) become sorry]," he warned.

After a few bites, she asked (with her mouth full), "Papa, why do you have Elgar'nan vallaslin [blood-written tattoo of the Elven god of vengeance] instead of Sylaise?"

He didn't quite recieve her compliment of his cooking as she intended. His eyes fell to the vallaslin on his ring finger, the only writing non-Keepers are allowed to do...the writing of his deceased wife and Enansal's mother.

"Mah'vir [Later], da'len...mah'vir."

Enansal ate more slowly, wondering what she had said that caused his change in humor.

_Same day, that evening._

Enansal held her tummy and squirmed uncomfortably in her bedroll. She had eaten too much and too quickly. Whining, she said, "_Papa_...I don't **_feel_ **good."

Unsurprised but merciful, he answered, "Well, we are fortunate that you found so much elderflower, emm'asha. [my girl]." Before he exited their aravel to milk the halla, he washed his hands and the pail with soapwort solution then grabbed his stool. Outside, he coaxed the mare halla to him with a satchel of maple sugar cubes and elfroot, washed her teets with warm water from the pail, then sat on the stool with the emptied pail tilted between his knees beneath the mare. He rested his cheek on her side and hummed as he rhythmically milked the halla. Once finished, he thanked the halla with a bow and, after gathering his things, returned to his daughter inside. He mixed the warm halla milk with elderflower and chamomile, strained it, then added lavender honey.

She sat up and drank the remedy as he combed his fingers through the crown of his daughter's head. Then she asked, "Can you read me era, Papa?"

He smiled then said, "Era? [Story]? ...Hm, the Era of Iloren?" She grinned, nodded, and curled up in his lap when he sat down.

Soon though, the remedy and his soothing voice lulled her to sleep. He kissed her forehead, tucked Enansal into her bedroll, then quietly retrieved last year's elderflower wine from its hiding place. His drunken baritone song to the moon roused Enansal from her sleep. But, when she realized it wasn't wolves, she didn't stir; in her heart she knew he sang in grief for her mamae [mother].

_Twenty years before present day, in Autumn._

They each ate their dinner in silence.

_She_ had pulled the endive and parsnips. _She_ had plucked the tomato and truffles. And _she_ had picked the hazelnuts. Now he wanted _her_ to do the canning and the pickling too!

Enansal fumed to herself as she finished her supper then rose to gather the supplies to do her chores. She realized there wasn't anything **else** to do and that irritated her even more. She knew the name and properties of every herb, shrub, and tree. She practically had the Era of Iloren memorized. And he scolded her whenever she tried to draw, saying, "Only Keepers do what is sacred." Whenever she asked when they would actually _meet_ a Keeper, he would get frustrated and say, "Mah'vir."

So she boiled the brined onions while she chopped the stawberries and lemon verbena she would use for the jam. As she sifted the baking soda onto the maple sugar though, she felt a pain in her lower abdomen. Figuring dinner wasn't agreeing with her, she got her sundries and went into the brush.

"_**PAPA!**_" she screamed.

He quickly followed her voice, his old bor'assan [bow] strung. When he found her, she trembled as she pointed to the bloody leaf she had used to wipe. "Lin [Blood]," she said, horrified that she was going to die.

And then he laughed.

"Papa! Why are you samahl [laugh(ing)]? Emma'lin en! [My blood comes]!"

"Yes, lethal'lan. [Yes, kinswoman]."

"...Lethal'lan?"

He replied, "Na dara din da'len anymore, emm'asha. Na dara lethal'lan. [You are not (a) little child anymore, my girl. You are (a) kinswoman]." He chuckled but then his brows furrowed and counted on his knuckles and fingers.

"What is it, Papa?" He motioned for her to follow. After kicking dirt over her urine, she did so but he out-paced her.

He called over his shoulder, "Ar'an da ir'elvar'shiral vira Arlathvhen. [We are very difficult journey to go [to] the decennial clan gathering]."

"Arlathvhen? What is 'Arlathvhen'?" she asked, rushing behind him.

Quickly packing jars of various foodstuffs in a crate, he replied, "...Lethal'arlath. [...Kin-meeting]."

Her mouth gaped. She yelled, "Na knew where vena El'vhen! [You knew where to find our People!]"

"Din, su every ten annar. ...Ar'an shiral'shem, ar'an ve. [No, (it) happen(s) every ten years. ...We journey fast, we find]."

Enansal resumed her canning. As he hoisted the crate into their aravel, she said, "Will there be others my age?"

He stopped and said, "Yes. And, when you are ready, our Keeper will give you a bond-mate." His expression fell for a moment but he continued to pack instead of dwell on his thought.

She stopped her hurried efforts. "What?"

Her Papa then told Enasal how babies are made. She grimaced often, holding her stomach. When he was finished, he pointed to his ring finger and said, "Na'Mamae'vallas, dar near-last enansal to me. [Your mother's writing, (it) is (her) second-to-last gift to me]."

Puzzled she asked, "What was the last?"

...It was the first time she'd seen him cry. He said, "Na, emm'asha...na. [You, my girl...you]."

That evening, in their haste to head south, the mare halla broke her leg. Enansal's father used his bor'assan for the first time in her life to put the beast out of her misery. Soon her bond-mate died as well from grief. With no way to possibly join the Arlathvhen nor survive for long in the wild, her Papa reluctantly left their aravel, the only home Enansal had ever known, to hike to Denerim.

-3-

_Present day._

Enansal rummaged in her pack for her Father's letter. Re-reading it, her determination to find the Dalish was renewed. She prayed that Ghilan'nain [Mother of the Halla, goddess of guidance and navigation] would intercede on her behalf to Andruil [Goddess of the Hunt, creator of the Dalish credo Vir Tan'adahl of which Vir Adahlen is a part]; Enansal was afraid that her prayers wouldn't be heard since she was not following Vir Adahlen [The Way of the Forest].

But, cementing her decision in her mind, she said to the air, "_Together_ we are stronger than the one." She doused the fire and dug in her pack for the compass Gorim sold her. She found it but also some dried elfroot.

Her heart panged with lost.

Her first was not the one she wanted for her bond-mate, Alarith, but a drunken shemlen 'king'. Her pretty face twisted into a hateful scowl.

Then, outside, she saw the flash of something metallic. The last shiny metal thing she had seen was the templar plated-armor on the stand in the shem-king's office. "_Has he sent templars for me like they did for Papa?_" she asked herself rhetorically. Her scowl morphing into a sneer.

She stood up and left the cave. The little girl, who wouldn't hurt a bug, was going to avenge her Papa with this "templar".

And feast on _its_ flesh.

* * *

**Even more notes**:

The Era (Tale) of Iloren = wiki/Codex_entry:_The_Tale_of_Iloren

Rock tripe apparently tastes like tapioca and licorice so I based Enansal's vegetarian, "backwoods gourmet" menu off of this food pairing chart: blog . foodpairing 2012 / 05 / l s d - foodpairing /

Other food pairing charts consulted:  
blog . foodpairing 2011 / 10 / blueberry-blue /  
blog . foodpairing 2011 / 08 / foodpairing - with - goat - cheese /  
blog . foodpairing 2012 / 06 / whistle - tree - cocktail - elderflower - foodpairing /  
blog . foodpairing 2011 / 09 / top - chef - just - desserts - a - foodpairing - view /

Other food and survival sources:  
"How to Stay Alive in the Woods" by Bradford Angier  
"Lost Crafts" by Una McGovern

Language sources:  
dragon age . wi kia wi ki / Elven _ language  
archive of our own works / 359253 ? view _ full _ work = true


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